wait. He looked back to see who had called to him,
and then he replied:

"I can't! I got to catch up with Jimmie Morrissey."

And he started off on a run. This was the cut direct. There was no
mistaking it. It sent a new fear to Pen's heart. It served to explain
why his schoolfellows had not been to see him and sympathize with him.
He had not before fully considered what effect his conduct of the
previous Saturday might have upon those who had been his best friends.
But Elmer's action was suspiciously expressive. It was more than that,
it was ominous and forbidding. Pen trudged on alone. A group of a
half dozen boys who had heretofore recognized him as their leader,
turned a corner into Main street, and went down on the other side. He
did not call to them, nor did they pay any attention to him, except
that, once or twice, some of them looked back, apparently to see
whether he was approaching them. But his ears burned. He knew they
were discussing his fault.

In the school-house yard another group of boys was gathered. They were
so earnestly engaged in conversation that they did not notice Pen's
approach until he was nearly on them. Then one of them gave a low
whistle and instantly the talking ceased.

"Hello, fellows!" Pen made his voice and manner as natural and easy as
determined effort could make them.

Two or three of them answered "Hello!" in an indifferent way;
otherwise none of them spoke to him.

If the battle of Chestnut Hill had ended when the enemy had been
driven into the school-house, and if the conquering troops had then
gone home proclaiming their victory, these same boys who were now
treating him with such cold indifference, would have been flinging
their arms about his shoulders this morning, and proclaiming him to
the world as a hero; and Pen knew it. With flushed face and sinking
heart he turned away and entered the school-house.

Aleck Sands was already there, sitting back in a corner, surrounded by
sympathizing friends. He still bore marks of the fray.

As Pen came in some one in the group said:

"Here he comes now."

Another one added:

"Hasn't he got the nerve though, to show himself after what he done to
the flag?"

And a third one, not to be outdone, declared:

"Aw! He's a reg'lar Benedic' Arnold."

Pen heard it all, as they had intended he should. He stopped in the
aisle and faced them. The grief and despair that he had felt outside
when his own comrades had ignored him, gav