The audience in the armory at Fairweather on the evening of Donatello’s visit and expulsion had been treated to something more, and something of vastly greater moment, than a mere exhibition drill. They had not appreciated it at first, and while it was going on their attention had been too greatly strained to fully take it in. But when Sergeant McCormack reported the fulfilment of his orders, and started around the right of the line to take his post, it dawned on the people who had seen the incident that an exhibition of American military spirit had been witnessed, the spirit of the soldier as distinct from that of the civilian, that it would have been worth going far to see. Simultaneously, from all quarters of the hall, people began to applaud. The applause grew more vigorous and was punctured with loud hurrahs. Men and women rose to their feet and waved hands and handkerchiefs. Sarah Halpert mounted the chair in which she had been sitting, stood on it, and clapped her gloved hands until they burned.

First Sergeant Barriscale bowed to right and left. He naturally assumed that it was all a tribute to the prompt and vigorous action taken by him in ridding the room of an undesirable guest. Then some one yelled: “Three cheers for Sergeant McCormack!” and it occurred to Barriscale that the audience might also be expressing its appreciation of the splendid sense of military discipline, exhibited under the most severely trying circumstances, by the second sergeant.

In the midst of the applause and shouting, Captain Murray entered with his lieutenants, and the command was turned over to him. But he did not learn, until after the drill was over and the company had been dismissed, what had caused the commotion prior to his entrance. When he did find out what had happened he crossed the hall to where Sergeant McCormack stood talking with his mother and his aunt, and gave the boy’s hand a mighty grip.

“I’m proud of you!” he said. “That was splendid! You’re an ideal soldier!”

Whereupon Sarah Halpert, quite unable to restrain her enthusiasm, threw her arms around the neck of the second sergeant, and, much to his embarrassment, kissed him on both cheeks.

The next day the occurrence at the armory the night before was the talk of the town. The newspapers took the matter up and exploited it from one end of the State to the other. Sergeant Barriscale was commended for his prompt and vigorous action in ridding the armory of an avowed enemy to the government, while Sergeant McCormack received due credit for his soldierly obedience, under most embarrassing circumstances. But Sergeant McCormack’s anger at the humiliation that had been put upon him was not appeased by any commendation of his soldierly conduct. Slow to wrath as he had always been, he was now thoroughly aroused and intensely indignant. If he could have withdrawn from the company and so severed the only relations between him and Barriscale, he would have done so at once. But it is not within the province of an enlisted man to resign, and he had no legitimate excuse for applying for a discharge, so nothing happened. But the breach that had opened narrowly between the two boys at the time of the flag-raising, and that had broadened dangerously on the night Chick was ordered from the stack-room, and had yawned wide, deep and impassable, since the night of the company meeting, was apparently never to be closed.

Hal was still employed at the Citizens’ Bank. He had been promoted from one position to another until he had come now to be regarded as one of the most trusted and skilful employees of that institution. Only one shadow rested on his standing there, and that was cast by his open espousal of the cause of the discontented in society, and his association with the more radical elements in the city. He had not been accused of planning the destruction of the existing social order, nor of advocating the confiscation of the property of the rich. He was a student and a dreamer rather than a militant reformer. But his well-known attitude was bound to cast upon him the shadow of suspicion; and since the occurrence of the incident at the armory, and its wide exploitation, the shadow had deepened into a cloud, and more than one whispered accusation went forth against him, of disloyalty to the forces that had made this country great and prosperous, and of indifference to the flag which was a symbol of power and progress, and so regarded the world over.

Moreover, for nearly a year, Europe had been weltering in the bloodiest war of history. No one could tell how soon the red waves of it would break on the shores of the United States. It was a time when absolute loyalty was expected and demanded from every man who had the welfare of his country and of his fellow-citizens at heart. Had it not been that McCormack’s social heresies were leavened to an appreciable extent by his apparent devotion to the National Guard, he would doubtless have found himself criticized more severely, and ostracized more effectually, than he had thus far been.

Yet, as it developed, his military connection was not sufficient fully to protect him. If he had been put to a test as a soldier, and had met it bravely and successfully, he was now to be put to a still greater test as a civilian.

It was about two weeks after the armory incident that Hal stood one day in the receiving teller’s cage at the bank, at the noon hour, relieving the teller, who had gone to luncheon. He saw the senior Barriscale enter the lobby and pass back to the president’s room. He thought nothing of it, as Mr. Barriscale was one of the directors of the bank and was frequently in to consult with the officers. But, ten minutes later, Mr. Winton, the president, crossed the counting-room to the teller’s cage, and spoke to Hal.

“McCormack,” he said, “will you please come into my room for a few minutes? Mr. Hanes will relieve you at the counter.”

As they walked back together the president continued:

“Mr. Barriscale, who, as you know, is one of our directors, has called my attention to a matter which seriously concerns you. I believe the better way is for you to take it up with him in person. That is the reason I have called you.”

Hal knew, instinctively, the nature of Mr. Barriscale’s errand, and he knew that he had reached another crisis in his career. But, neither by word nor look, did he exhibit any apprehension.

In the president’s room, in a chair by the table, the millionaire manufacturer was sitting. Big-bodied, square-jawed, with heavy moustache and closely cropped beard, he looked the determined and aggressive man that he was. He nodded as Hal entered the room, but he made no other sign, and gave no word, of recognition.

The president opened the conversation by saying:

“Mr. Barriscale desires to speak to you on a matter which he believes to be of considerable importance both to you and to the bank.”

The manufacturer, accustomed to efficiency in business methods, went at once to the heart of his errand.

“I am credibly informed,” he said, turning to the young man, “that you associate with a group of radicals in this community whose purposes and plans are entirely subversive of law and order. That you not only associate with them but that you sympathize with many of their aims, and assist, to an appreciable extent, in the spreading of their propaganda. It is hardly necessary for me to say that such activities are wholly inconsistent with your position in this bank. From what I hear, your attitude has already cost the bank something in the way of reputation for soundness and conservatism. I have said to Mr. Winton that you should be compelled at once to do one of two things, either cut loose absolutely from the associations and beliefs I have mentioned, or else give up your position in the bank.”

He had stated his case clearly, concisely and positively. The statement called for an equally clear, concise and positive answer, and that Hal knew he could not give. But he was not minded to yield without at least an attempt at justification.

“I have friends in the city,” he replied, “among all classes of people, holding all kinds of beliefs. For myself, I am neither a conservative nor a radical; I have an open mind. I am looking for that which is best for my country and for her humblest as well as her most prominent citizens. I have tried to fulfil my duty to this bank in every way. If my associations or conduct have brought discredit on it in the slightest degree I am extremely sorry.”

“I have no doubt of it, young man; but you are evading the issue. I am not charging you with robbing the bank, but with maintaining evil associations. It is that that is hurting us. For instance, you brought to the armory a few evenings ago, as your guest, a notorious firebrand, an enemy to this government, a defamer of the National Guard. I am proud of my son that he should have had him put into the street. But the fact has been spread broadcast that it was one of our employees who took the fellow there, and it has done the bank no good, Mr. Winton, no good.”

He turned toward the president, and emphasized his conviction by bringing his hand down forcibly on the arm of his chair.

“It certainly was an unfortunate occurrence,” replied the president. “I cannot believe that McCormack realized that it might be injurious to us or he would not have been so injudicious.”

“That’s the point exactly,” replied the manufacturer. “An employee who shows so little judgment in the choosing of his associates as this young man has shown, and so little discretion in his speech and conduct, is a constant menace to any financial institution. That is why,” turning again toward Hal, “I have recommended to Mr. Winton that we get rid of you.”

Get rid of him! Just as though he were a balky horse or a biting dog. Resentment flashed up in Hal’s breast. He turned sharply on his critic.

“You don’t have to get rid of me, Mr. Barriscale,” he replied. “When the bank wishes me to leave I will go. In the meantime I reserve to myself the right to choose my friends and associates.”

Mr. Barriscale turned again toward the president with a shrug of his shoulders and a significant wave of his hand, as if to say “I told you so,” but he said nothing. Mr. Winton was the next to speak.

“I am sorry you assume this attitude, McCormack,” he said. “We like you here. Your work is excellent. We want to keep you. But I am afraid we can do so only on the condition laid down by Mr. Barriscale. You must either give up your associates or your position.”

Hal looked from one to the other of the men and was silent. Across his mind flashed the oft-repeated declaration of Donatello that under the present social system not only business and trade, but the welfare, the happiness, the very lives of the vast majority of men were absolutely under the control of the money power centered in the few. Here was Mr. Barriscale, the heaviest stockholder of the bank, the most influential director, at the head of a corporation the daily balance of which at the bank was five times that of any other depositor, able, by reason of his money interest alone, to dictate the policy of the institution, even to the matter of the employment and discharge of its clerks; the very president himself being obliged to follow humbly in his wake. Hal’s indignation rose with his resentment. He knew that Mr. Barriscale had decided to force him out, and that it would be useless now for him to argue or protest. He even doubted whether an unconditional surrender on his part would result in more than a temporary truce. He felt that he might as well meet the issue squarely.

“Very well, Mr. Winton,” he said quietly, “since Mr. Barriscale’s voice here is the controlling one, and since it is his wish that I shall go, there is nothing for me to do but comply with it. I am not ashamed of my beliefs or associations and I must decline to give up any of them.”

Mr. Barriscale rose to his feet.

“That settles it!” he exclaimed. “I presume the young man will go at once, Mr. Winton.”

“I will go to-day, Mr. Barriscale,” responded Hal.

But the president began to protest.

“Oh, not to-day, McCormack. I don’t think there is any such haste as that. I don’t think Mr. Barriscale means that you shall go to-day.”

The manufacturer brought the palm of his hand down heavily on the table.

“That is exactly what I mean, Mr. Winton,” he replied; “to-day. We can’t afford to harbor him for a moment longer than we have to. It would be an injustice to our stockholders and depositors.”

To this outburst Hal made no reply. He turned to the president and held out his hand.

“I am grateful to you, Mr. Winton,” he said, “for all the help and encouragement you have given me, and all the patience and kindness you have shown to me since I have been here. Good-bye!”

Amazed, chagrined, and shocked by the suddenness of it all, the president was unable to speak, but he held fast to the boy’s hand with such a grip that Hal was obliged forcibly to withdraw it. When he had done this he bowed formally in the direction of the manufacturer, and turned and left the room. He stopped at the locker to get his hat and one or two of his personal belongings, and then went down the aisle and across the lobby to the big street door. As he passed the cashier’s room that official saw him through the plate-glass window and called to him:

“Oh, McCormack, are you going to lunch? I wish you’d take these letters up to the post-office for me. John is out, and I’m anxious to get them off on the 12:40.”

“With pleasure, Mr. Haldeman.”

Hal reached his hand through the wicket, took the letters, and passed out into the street.

So, then, he had lost his job. It was an occupation of which he had grown fond, and in which he had become skilful. His two years of bank training would now go for naught. For it was not to be supposed that after his dismissal from one bank he would easily find employment in another. He must seek work now that would be less to his taste. When he went home and told his mother about it she wept for an hour. She did not blame him. She had implicit faith in his honesty and judgment, and she never questioned his beliefs. But when his Aunt Sarah Halpert heard of it she was beside herself. She sent for Hal to come to her house at once.

“Not but what you’ve got what you deserved to get,” she told him, “but it was all so absurdly unnecessary. I’ve no love for the elder Barriscale; you know that. And I’ve no doubt he took malicious delight in throwing you into the street; but he was dead right in declaring that the bank couldn’t afford to keep you. I’ve no sympathy for you; none whatever. Now go find a job somewhere and stick to it, and behave yourself. Hal,” she said, after she had stormed at him to her heart’s content, “if you need a little money, or a little help of any kind while you’re looking around, just come to your Aunt Sarah.” And when she kissed him good-night there were tears in her eyes, and there was fondness in her voice.

It was not many days before Hal found new employment as an accountant in a large wholesale house in the city. It was not so congenial a task as his old one. The salary was larger, it is true, but the hours were longer, the work more strenuous, the environment not so refined and agreeable. However, so long as he paid strict attention to business, his new employers were not concerned about his beliefs or his personal associations. Indeed, in spite of his own bitter experience, he continued to be on friendly terms with Donatello and his group of reformers and internationalists. The young radical had laid up nothing against Sergeant McCormack on account of his expulsion from the armory on a certain night, but he did not cease to denounce, with ever increasing bitterness, a civil and military system under which such an outrage, as he termed it, was possible. When Hal was forced from his position at the bank, Donatello’s indignation knew no bounds. He declared that the boy was being crucified for his beliefs, at the hands of privilege, and that the incident was but another argument to prove that the money power and the capitalistic system the world over should be overthrown and abolished. And slowly, insidiously, but nevertheless effectually, under the tutelage of Donatello, the poison of radicalism, of internationalism as opposed to patriotism, of syndicalism as distinct from democracy, seeped into the boy’s mind and colored his thought and his purpose. His connection with the National Guard in these days was indeed the only anchor which held him safely to his moorings as a loyal citizen of a great republic. And even at this anchorage he chafed, and from it would willingly have been free.

One afternoon, in the street, as he turned a corner near his place of business, he ran into Joe Brownell, second lieutenant of Company E. Brownell had been his friend since the day of his enlistment in the Guard, and, so far as a commissioned officer could do so without exhibiting partiality, he had been his supporter and adviser.

“I was just hunting you up, Hal,” he said; “there’s news. Lieutenant Morosco is going to resign.”

“Indeed!” was the reply. “How is that?”

“Well, you know the Sturtevant people that he’s been with so long have transferred him to the New York office. He goes east next week. That leaves a vacancy in the first lieutenancy.”

“Then you’ll go up; and Barriscale will get shoulder straps?”

“That’s just the point. That’s a programme I don’t like.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, there are reasons. One is that I don’t want the place. I’m not fitted for it, and I know it. The boys like me too well and I’ve no more sense of discipline than a ground-hog. If I ever had to command the company I’d collapse. Another reason is that—well, there’s a pretty congenial crowd in officers’ quarters now; I’d like to keep it congenial.”

“You mean that Barriscale wouldn’t be quite acceptable there?”

“To be frank with you, that’s it exactly.”

“But how are you going to help it? If you keep the second lieutenancy, Barriscale will get the first.”

“Not if I can prevent it, he won’t.”

“How will you prevent it? He’ll be entitled to the promotion.”

“I propose to have you stand for election to the first lieutenancy.”

“Me!”

“Yes, you. It’s a matter of company election, you know; the boys would be glad to put you in, and it would be entirely satisfactory up above; I know what I’m talking about.”

“But, Joe, I couldn’t jump two grades. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides, after what happened at the armory, and at the bank, and after all the comment that’s been stirred up about me, it would never do for me to aspire to a commission. It’s my place to crawl into my shell and stay there till my time’s out.”

“Nonsense! There are only two men in this town who would hate to see you get a commission.”

“You might as well make it three, Joe. I would hate to see myself get it. With my views on social and economic problems and the proper functions of government, I’ve no business in the Guard anyway. I’ve no right to be a sergeant, much less to get a commission. The whole thing is entirely out of the question. So drop it, Joe. I appreciate your friendship and good intentions; but—drop it.”

“Drop nothing! No one has ever criticized your conduct as a soldier. It’s beyond criticism. And as for Ben Barriscale, you owe him nothing and you know it. I’ve kept my mouth shut through everything. It was my place to. But now, with no one but you to hear me, I’ve got to have my fling. I think that stunt of Barriscale’s at the armory that night, while doubtless within the rules, was the most contemptible thing I ever heard of. And, if I’m rightly informed, even that was outclassed by his father’s treatment of you at the bank. The whole thing gets my——”

Hal interrupted him impatiently. “Joe,” he said, “in a situation like this there’s no room for resentments. But you’re a loyal friend of mine and I’ll be fair with you. I’ll consider your proposition, and I’ll let you know to-morrow what I’ve decided to do.”

The next day, at noon, when the two men came together, Sergeant McCormack said:

“I’ve thought it all over, and I’ve decided not to stand for the election.”