SO Paul Grayson’s secret was out at last, and now the boys wished there never had been any secret at all.

“I’ve had lots of fun trying to puzzle it out,” said Ned Johnston to Napoleon Nott on the afternoon of the day of the trial, “but now I wish that I hadn’t. Think of poor Paul!”

“I wish he had been a prince in exile,” said Napoleon Nott, “for then he wouldn’t have had a chance to tell on himself. Princes’ sons never have their fathers tried for passing counterfeit money. But I’ll tell you what; the way that Paul looked when he said ‘Father!’ that day was just like a picture in a book I’ve got, named ‘Doomed to Death; or, the Pirate’s ProtÉgÉ.’ I’ll bring it to school some day and show it to you all.”

“I’ll break every bone in your body if you do,” said Will Palmer.

Notty suddenly remembered that his mother had sent him to the market to order something, so he hurried away from society that he had mistakenly supposed might be congenial, while Ned Johnston made the round of the residences of the various boys who had been at school with Paul. The end of it all was that the entire school met in the school-yard that evening after supper for the purpose of formally drafting resolutions of sympathy. Condolence also was suggested by Sam Wardwell, but Canning Forbes said that the meeting should not make a fool of itself if he could prevent it.

If the roll of Mr. Morton’s school had been called that evening at that meeting, not a single absentee would have been reported. Even Charlie Gunter, who had begun half an hour before to shake with a chill, was present; and although his remarks were somewhat jerky, and his sentences bitten all to pieces by his chattering teeth, he spoke so feelingly that no one manifested the slightest inclination to laugh.

It had been intended that the meeting should be organized in as grand style as any town-meeting to consider the dog-tax question had ever been, but somehow there was a general unloosening of tongues, and no one thought to move that the assemblage should be called to order.

“It’s easy enough now to see why Paul played so splendidly in that tableau of ‘Civilization,’” said Will Palmer.

“Yes, indeed, it is,” said Canning Forbes; “and easy, too, to understand why he fought so hard against taking the part when every one asked him to do it.”

“No wonder he wasn’t afraid to walk beside the prisoner after the deputy-sheriff had captured him,” said Sam Wardwell. “I don’t believe I’d have been afraid myself, if my father had been the counterfeiter. And say, Mr. Morton came into the store this morning and offered father a five-dollar bill to make up his loss by the bad bill that Paul’s father passed on him, and what do you think father said?”

“We give it up,” said Canning Forbes, quickly. “Tell us what it was.”

“Why,” Sam answered, “he said that he wouldn’t touch it for a thousand dollars, and if ever the prisoner needed money or anything during his six months, all he needed to do was to send to him. Father was telling mother about the whole thing last night when I went home, and when I went in he jumped up and hugged me and kissed me. He hasn’t done that before since I was a little boy.”

“Now I know why Paul used to forget his game and stare at the jail windows so hard,” said Benny Mallow.

“Ye-es,” chattered Charlie Gunter, “and why he—he was al-always wh-wh-wh-whistling when he passed the jail.”

“And why he never could be happy unless a game of ball was going on in the lot by the jail,” resumed Benny. “If I’d only known all about it, I would have sweated to death on the hottest day of the summer rather than not have obliged him.”

“Some of the girls thought it was very unmannerly for Paul to have been the first to leave Benny’s party the night of the escape,” said Will Palmer. “I’m going to call specially on each one of those girls and make her take it back.”

“And if either of them refuses,” said Sam Wardwell, “just you tell me. She sha’n’t ever eat another philopena with me while she lives; not if she lives for a thousand years.”

“He begged me to tell all of you boys that he hadn’t anything to do with the catching of the prisoner,” confessed Benny, for the first time. “I wish I’d gone and done it right away! Oh dear; I do think I’m the very wickedest boy that ever lived—except Cain.”

“I wonder who told the judge so much about Paul’s father?” asked Ned Johnston.

“Why, Mr. Morton, of course,” replied Canning Forbes. “Haven’t you seen through that yet? Mr. Morton told in school one day, you know, that Paul was the son of an old friend of his.”

At least half of the boys had not put the two ends of this thread together before, but they all admitted that Canning had done it correctly.

“Certainly,” said Will Palmer, “and that explains why Mr. Morton was so frequent in his visits to the prison.”

“Yes, and why Paul felt so dreadful after he had been there the first time,” said Benny. “It just used him up completely; you’d hardly have thought him the same boy.”

Mention of that incident recalled to the boys the manner in which Paul had come to go to the prison, so one after another looked at Joe Appleby, who had not yet said a word, but Joe did not seem angry; on the contrary, he said,

“Boys, of course I didn’t know how what I said was affecting Paul, but I know now, and I’m going to apologize to him the first chance I get. I’m going to ask him to forgive me, or to take it out of me, if he’d rather; and,” continued Joe, after a short pause, “I’m not going to wait for the chance, but I’m going to make it.”

“Hurrah for Appleby!” shouted Will Palmer, and as three cheers were given Will crossed over to the big boy of whom he had long been jealous, and shook hands with him, and all the other boys understood it; so when Canning Forbes cried, “Three cheers for Palmer!” they too were given with a will.

“I want to make a suggestion,” said Canning Forbes, when the cheering had ended. “We came here to adopt resolutions for Paul Grayson, but I’m sure he’d be better pleased if we would say nothing about the matter; any reference to it would be certain to give him pain. The best we can do is to treat him with special kindness hereafter, if he stays, and never, by any word or deed, make reference to the past. If there is any one who insists on resolutions, let him adopt them for himself and about himself. In spite of having had a father who was a gambler and a criminal, Paul is the most sensible, honest, honorable, pleasant fellow in this town. Let each one of us make a resolution that if a boy can become what Paul is, in spite of such dreadful trouble, those of us who have honest fathers and happy homes ought to do at least as well.”

“I’ll do that,” said Benny Mallow, “right straight away, and I’ll write it down in a book as soon as I get home, so as to be sure never to forget it.”

“So will I,” said Napoleon Nott. “I’ll write it on the first page of ‘The Exiled Prince,’ so I’ll be sure to see it often.”

Such of the boys as did not agree verbally to Canning’s suggestion seemed to be making the resolution quietly, and the meeting soon broke up. As Benny started for home it suddenly occurred to him that, now the secret was out, Paul might go away; he certainly would if Mr. Morton did not open school.

This was too dreadful an uncertainty to be endured, so Benny hurried to old Mrs. Bartle’s and asked to see the teacher. Mr. Morton quickly quieted his mind by saying that the school would continue for at least the half-year that Paul’s father remained in the jail. Of course Paul would be one of the class; indeed, Mr. Morton was willing that Benny should tell every one that the only reason he had opened school at Laketon at all was his desire to be near the old friend whom he could not desert in his trouble, and to have near the prisoner, whose real name was Paul Gray, the son for whom, since the death of his wife, Paul Gray had felt an affection that Mr. Morton knew would make a good man of him when again he had a chance to start in the world.

When Paul Gray’s term of imprisonment expired he and Paul went away together, and no one was so unmannerly as to ask them where they were going. Some of the people of the town talked of taking up a subscription for the unfortunate man, but Mr. Morton said it would not be necessary, as Gray’s old friends had arranged to start him in business. All of the boys were as sorry to part with Paul as if the boy had been going to his grave, particularly because Canning Forbes had reminded them that it would not do to ask him to write to them, because his father would prefer that no one who had known his old history should know where he began his new life.

But every one begged Paul’s picture, which pleased Paul greatly; and after a supper given expressly in Paul’s honor by Joe Appleby, Canning Forbes arose and presented Paul an album containing the portraits of all the members of the old class. The pictures were not remarkably good, having been done by a carpenter who sometimes took “tin-types” merely to oblige people, he said, but the album was handsome, having been ordered from New York, regardless of expense, by Sam Wardwell’s father, and on the cover was the inscription, in gold letters, “Don’t forget us, for we can’t forget you.”