.

"P'raps he's flunked his Greek exam.," suggested Bill Ward, with a grin.

"He looks as if he'd seen a ghost!" said Tennelly, eying him critically.

"Cut it out, boys," said Courtland, with a weary smile. "I've seen
enough. Wittemore's called home. His mother's dying. I went an errand
for him down in some of his slums and on the way back I just saw a
little kid get killed. Pretty little kid, too, with long curls!"

"_Good night nurse!_" said Pat from his couch. "Say, that is going
some!"

"Ferget it!" ejaculated Bill Ward, coming to his feet. "Had your supper
yet, Court?"

Courtland shook his head.

"Well, just you sit still there while I run down to the pie-shop and see
what I can get."

Bill seized his cap and mackinaw and went roaring off down the hall.
Courtland's eyes were closed. He hadn't felt so tired since he left the
hospital. His mind was still grappling with the questions that his last
two hours had flung at him to be answered.

Pat sat up and put away his pipe. He made silent motions to Tennelly,
and the two picked up the unresisting Courtland and laid him on the
couch. Pat's face was unusually sober as he gently put a pillow under
his friend's head. Courtland opened his eyes and smiled.

"Thanks, old man," he said, and gripped his hand understandingly. There
was something in Pat's face he had never noticed there before. As he
dropped his eyelids shut he had an odd sense that Pat and Tennelly and
the Presence were all taking care of him. A sick fancy of worn-out
nerves, of course, but pleasant all the same.

Down the hall a nasal voice twanged at the telephone, shouting each
answer as though to make the whole dormitory hear. Then loud steps, a
thump on the door as it was flung open:

"Court here? A girl on the 'phone wants you, Court. Says her name is
Miss Gila Dare."

CHAPTER VII

The messenger had imitated Gila Dare's petulant childish accent to
perfection. At another time the three young men would have shouted over
it. Now they looked at one another in silence.

"Sha'n't I go and get a message for you, Court?" asked Tennelly. For
Courtland's face was ashen gray, and the memory of it lying in the
hospital was too recent for him not to feel anxious about his friend. He
had only been permitted to return to college so quickly under strict
orders not to overdo.

"No, I guess I'll go," said Courtland, indifferently, rising as he
spoke.

They listened anxiously to his tones as h