e oldest one said: "Aw rats! What kinda rot are you giving
us, Paul? You were nutty then, o' course!" and he saw that, young as
they were, their eyes were holden like the rest.

In the second week Courtland made his decision. He would go back to the
university and pack up. Gila would be away from the city by that time;
there would be no chance of meeting her and having his wound opened
afresh. The fellows would be all gone and he could do about as he
pleased.

It was the second day after he went back that he met Pat on the street,
and it was from Pat that he learned that Tennelly and Bill Ward had gone
down to the shore to a house party given by "that fluffy-ruffles cousin
of Bill's."

Pat drew his own conclusions from the white look on Courtland's face
when he told him. He would heartily have enjoyed throttling the girl if
he had had a chance just then, when he saw the look of suffering in
Courtland's eyes.

Pat clung to Courtland all that week, helped him pack, and dogged his
steps. Except when he visited the little sacred room at the end of the
hall in the dormitory, Courtland was never sure of freedom from him. He
was always on hand to propose a hike or a trip to the movies when he saw
Courtland was tired. Courtland was grateful, and there was something so
loyal about him that he couldn't give him the slip. So when he went down
after Burns and whirled him away in his big gray car to the seashore
Friday morning to stay until Saturday evening, Pat went along.

CHAPTER XXVII

They certainly were a queer trio, the little Scotch preacher, the big
Irish athlete, and the cultured aristocrat! Yet they managed to have a
mighty good time of it those two days at the shore, and came back the
warmest of friends. Pat proved his devotion to Burns by attending church
the next day with Courtland, and listening attentively to every word
that was said. It is true he did it much in the same way the fellows
used to share one another's stunts in college, sticking by and helping
out when one of the gang had a hard task to perform. But it pleased both
Courtland and Burns that he came. Courtland wondered, as he shared the
hymn-book with him and heard him growl out a few bass notes to old "Rock
of Ages," why it was that it seemed to fill him with a kind of
exaltation to hear Pat sing. He hadn't yet recognized the call to go
a-fishing for men, nor knew that it was the divine angler's deep delight
in his employment that was fill