On the following Saturday, Donald Hilton called upon Betty at Greycliff. He had both written and telephoned and found that it would be “perfectly convenient” for Betty to receive him. Alma brought his card to Betty, who had just come down stairs, at the appointed hour, to wait in a small reception room. Several girls were there, according to custom at Greycliff, expecting callers. Cards were always first taken to Miss Randolph or whatever teacher was in charge for the afternoon.

Upon receiving Donald’s card, Betty crossed the hall to the double parlors or reception rooms, in one of which Donald was waiting. At her approach he rose and held out a friendly hand. Betty was looking particularly fetching, though simply dressed for the afternoon. There were some other guests in the large room, but Donald led Betty to a comfortable seat in the corner at one end of the room, near one of the windows, and placed his own chair, a big affair with a high back, in such a way that he would face Betty and the world would be shut off, so far as he was concerned.

“Now we can talk,” said Donald. “You haven’t any idea how aggravating it has been not to be able to get over here.”

“What did you have to do while you were ‘on props,’ as we call it?”

“What didn’t I? But being ‘on props’ chiefly cuts you off from privileges, you know. I didn’t see the commandant again—thought I would not bother the old boy, and he had been pretty fine about it, anyhow. I did go to Van Horne and I told him all the details. I think he believed me. But none of the officers can say much if it is a case of breaking rules. And I could not prove anything. Consequently I went ‘on props.’”

“Do they write home about it?”

“No, but I did, of course. I wrote the whole thing, more because I was afraid of what might come of it in the future than because I wanted them to know about it. I told them not to waste any sympathy on me, but they’d better get it straight from the first.”

“It was a perfect shame!”

“A fellow has to take these things sometimes, and I do not need any sympathy. What made me so provoked was that I could not find out who set it all up. And now I come to the thrilling part of my tale of woe. You remember that we thought it might be the younger cadets getting it back on us older fellows, but I was the only one so favored!

“I think that I told you once, Betty, about the little rivalry in our class, and the fellow that would scarcely speak to me because I made the first team and he didn’t.”

“Yes, but I have forgotten his name.”

“Newt Fuller. He is a great follower of Captain Holley. Then there is another named Jim Clark that was friendly with me, until he began to go around with Newt and his friends, and roomed with one of them. I had noticed that they were not any too cordial, but didn’t pay much attention. I treat all the boys alike, except to have an especial pal or two, as all of them do.

“Well, shortly after the reception, I noticed Jim’s starting to say something to me two or three times, then looking all around and changing his mind. Finally, I asked him what was the matter, if he wanted to speak to me about something. We were separating after drill that time. ‘Sh-sh!’ he said. ‘Yes, I do, but I can’t tell you now. If I can get a chance, I’ll tell you something one of these days. I don’t dare now. But watch your step!’”

“Mercy sakes!” cried Betty. “Is anybody going to do anything very terrible to you?”

“No, indeed. Nothing very serious, I’m sure. Of course, my mind ran back to the cause of my being on probation, and I began to connect that with Newt, because Jim was with that crowd.”

“Then it wasn’t the younger cadets at all?”

“No, not a bit of it. To go on with the story—old Jim would look awfully guilty whenever he saw me, and I remembered that he had looked funny before when he saw me, but I had not thought about it. As a conspirator, Jim is not a success!” Donald’s half suppressed laugh here amused Betty, who laughed, too, and several girls and boys not far away looked over to see what the fun might be.

“Some of our friends will be joining us in a few moments,” said Donald. “I’d better sober down, if I don’t want to be interrupted. To continue, as the books say, finally, one time not long ago, Jim and I happened along together on the ice, probably out of sight of any of the other conspirators, for Jim skated up to me. We did a few figures, and Jim told me what by that time I was expecting, that it was set up. He was the one who sent the word that called me out of my room, and he and another cadet tore up the place a little, thought it was fun and nothing more than the boys sometimes do to each other. ‘But, Donald,’ he said, ‘I did not put those cigarettes and ashes in your room. I heard Newt and the other boys talking about it afterwards, and knew that they must have been there after I left. I nearly gave the thing away when I saw you, walking up and down after the girls had arrived for the reception.’ And now, Betty, Jim said, ‘I wanted to tell you, but the worst of it is that there is somebody in authority who suggested the whole thing. Can you guess? Who didn’t want you to be at that reception?’” Donald paused.

“Who, indeed!” exclaimed Betty. “Why, such things are too small for a man to do! I can’t believe it, even of our mysterious captain. But now I will tell you what he did that night. He must have done it on purpose. He took pains to see that I saw you outside. I thought perhaps it was an accident after all!”

“I think I would have lost what little mind I had left if I had known that you were looking at me!”

“I couldn’t tell you that night, with all the rest you had to trouble you.”

“I could scarcely believe Jim, and said, ‘Are you sure, Jim?’—and he said, ‘Indeed I am; you want to look out, Don.’ So I’m looking out, and Jim doesn’t look guilty any more when he sees me, for I told him it was all right. He was just in for some fun, but Newt, and whoever was behind him, intended to make trouble for me with the faculty. That much is plain. Jim will have to keep in with those fellows, so they won’t suspect. He is a pretty decent chap, and I can see that he is disgusted with Newt!”

“I don’t see the point of Captain Holley’s dislike of you. He is not paying much attention to me.”

“Twice, though, when he wanted you for his company, I got ahead of him.”

“Yes, thank fortune!”

“I thank you, Miss Betty,” and Donald started up, as if to rise, and bowed.

“I see. It is not letting another man take the girl you have asked for.”

“That is partly it, but I am afraid that the captain is also interested in this particular girl.”

“Donald, if he should ask me to call or anything, what should I do? If I have a previous date with you, it would only make him do something mean to you. I don’t believe I’ll go to the ice carnival at all.”

“If he should ask to call, I think you would be safe to let him do it, even if you don’t like him. I’m sure I can’t advise you, for I hate to think of your having anything to do with him. Don’t think of me. I can keep out of any more trouble, I think. Jim promised to warn me through one of the other boys if he knows of anything.”

“When did Captain Holley come to the military school, or do you know?”

“The year before Louise came here, for a little while, you know. I always wondered why she didn’t stay.”

“There was some trouble, and the girls did not regret her going. She made herself disagreeable enough. But the poor girl had all kinds of trouble, of course, for which she wasn’t to blame. She tries to be more friendly now.”

“When Holley tried to claim, one day in a group of us cadets, that his country didn’t start the war, and isn’t to blame and all that, I thought it was too funny to get mad about, and he kept saying that Americans ought to keep neutral—nothing to us, I suppose, how many of our people get killed at sea—but they have relatives over there, and maybe they really do think it. Our boys get pretty hot sometimes, and you ought to see how the drills have improved! Even the smallest of the kid cadets are getting ready to fight for their country! Holley claims that even if he had not been in the United States, the trouble with his eyes would have kept him out of the army.”

“The girls talk, too, though Miss Randolph and the teachers try to keep them from having arguments or stirring up Professor Schafer and Doctor Carver. Isabel came rushing into our suite the other day, with her cheeks hot and her eyes flashing, and asked us what we thought of the idea that you would do anything, no matter how mean, for your country, ‘your country right or wrong’ stuff. ‘Do you think that’s patriotism?’ she asked, about the way she does in debate. Cathalina told her that of course you would love your country and your flag, ‘right or wrong,’ but to ‘justify’ wrong acts of the people who were running the government certainly wouldn’t be true patriotism. She said that her mother said God’s laws were first, and that our motto says ‘In God we trust.’”

“Oh, well,” said Donald, “in our country we don’t hesitate to speak out and tell our politicians what we think. Our flag stands for certain principles—ideals, the old boy calls them, and it’s those that we’ll fight for if we get into the war. He made us a long speech the other day on patriotism, and took up all these puzzling things. He said that our flag stands for these great principles, and that sometimes there was a difference between our real government and its principles, and their administration by politicians that were not really patriots. I wish you had heard him. Such cheering and clapping! He’s the kind of an old scout to put in charge of a military academy! It wouldn’t be a very pleasant place to be in these days for anybody who wasn’t a good American.”

“Good!” exclaimed Betty. “But I do think it is the funniest thing to hear you and Jack and the rest of the boys call the commandant the ‘old boy’ and ‘old scout.’ He is so big and dignified. I should think you’d be afraid of him.”

“We are. But what good would he be if he weren’t strict? You don’t know how much good military discipline does some of those wild boys that come to our school. Though it is true, Miss Betty, that one can have too much of a good thing!”

“As you have good reason to know?”

“Just so.”

“There’s one thing I hadn’t thought of—I don’t believe you would be prevented from an engagement again, do you? Seems to me it would look suspicious, the same thing another time.”

“I think it could be done in some other way the next time.”

“Then I shan’t make any more dates.”

“Oh, Betty! You wouldn’t punish me that way, I hope.”

“Will you look out when any of them are around, so nothing could happen?”

“Of course. I rather think I could take care of myself.”

“See that you do, then,” said Betty lightly. “By the way, how is your Glee Club coming on?”

“Practicing as usual. How is yours?”

“Practicing, too, every week. You would think we had nothing but a conservatory of music around here by the sounds, especially the last of the week. The Glee Club, the Guitar, Uke and Mandolin Club, the Collegiate and Academy Orchestras, to say nothing of what Hilary calls the Comb Symphony Orchestra, on private serenades, combine to make night hideous.”

Donald was thinking “what a bright, jolly, sweet girl Betty is, and how those dimples do chase around when she laughs!” And Betty was thinking “Isn’t Donald a good, wholesome boy, honest and fine as they are made!”

Harry Mills and Jack Appleton were calling on Dorothy and Jane, and it came about that they all drifted together to chat, since Donald had completed his confidences to Betty.