again.

"I do love you," he said with a strong effort to control himself,
"but I am not worthy to touch the hem of your garment."

"Tell me why, Sidney?"

"Some day--I do not know when--I will tell you all. And if you can
love me after that, we shall both be happy."

"Tell me now," she urged.

"I cannot," said he, "but if you only trust me, Polly, you shall
know. If you will not trust me--"

He paused, looking down at the snow path.

"Good night!" he added presently.

They kissed and parted, each going to the company of bitter tears.

As of old, Trove had many a friend,--school-fellows who came of an
evening, now and then, for his help in some knotty problem. All
saw a change in him. He had not the enthusiasm and good cheer of
former days, and some ceased to visit him. Moreover they were free
to say that Trove was getting a big head. For one thing, he had
become rather careless about his clothes,--a new trait in him, for
he had the gift of pride and the knack of neatness.

A new student sought his acquaintance the very first week of the
term,--that rather foppish young man who got off the cars at
Hillsborough the day of their first coming. He was from Buffalo,
and, although twenty-two years of age, was preparing to enter
college. His tales of the big city and his frank good-fellowship
made him a welcome guest. Soon he was known to all as "Dick"--his
name being Richard Roberts. It was not long before Dick knew
everybody and everybody knew Dick, including Polly, and thought him
a fine fellow. Soon Trove came to know that when he was detained a
little after school Dick went home with Polly. That gave him no
concern, however, until Dick ceased to visit him, and he saw a
change in the girl.

One day, two letters came for Trove. They were in girlish
penmanship and bore no signature, but stung him to the quick.

"For Heaven's sake get a new hat," said one.

"You are too handsome to neglect your clothes," said the other.

As he read them, his cheeks were burning with his shame. He went
for his hat and looked it over carefully. It was faded, and there
was a little rent in the crown. His boots were tapped and mended,
his trousers threadbare at the knee, and there were two patches on
his coat.

"I hadn't thought of it," said he, with a sigh. Then he went for a
talk with Darrel.

"Did you ever see a more shabby-looking creature?" he inquired, as
Darrel came to meet him. "I am so ashamed of m