Three days passed and still the General refused to see May.

"When he will tell me the truth then will I see him and not before," the General said in reply to Sarah's solicitation in her favorite's behalf.

"He has told the truth," Sarah answered.

"The evidence is against him; he looked guilty; he refused to speak; the match was found in his pocket and the hay could not ignite itself," the General said stubbornly.

"Evidence is nothing!" Sarah cried, with a woman's disdain for hard facts. "He says he didn't do it; that's enough for me and it ought to be for you."

"There was the match——"

"Can't you get your mind off that one little match?" interrupted Sarah, with scorn in her eyes and in her voice. "A man will cling to a thing like that and allow it to stifle his reason and instinct—no, not that, for a man hasn't the instinct of a June bug!"

"I was correct in my first estimate of his character; he is a coward."

"Estimate!" sniffed Sarah. "I wouldn't give much for an 'estimate' that makes a coward of a boy who drilled till he dropped, put out a fire that might have terrified a grown person, and bore all those burns on his poor little hands and legs without a whimper!" and she left the General to his own thoughts.

The General's thoughts were not pleasant. He had no doubt of his supposed nephew's guilt, and it gave him great pain to reflect upon the duplicity and cowardice that he thought he detected in the child he already loved. Singularly enough he did not think of Philip in connection with the fire. The nature of Philip's communication—"Gay has set the barn afire!" was calculated to mislead; the General would have scorned to question Philip further. He wanted Gay's confession, not Philip's accusation, and in his morning calls at Dr. Brentwood's he avoided Philip as carefully as that young man avoided him.

Sarah was equally unsuspicious of Philip. Phyllis was the only one who took a sensible view of the matter; she believed that he knew more about the fire than he was willing to tell. One day she so far forgot her deference for her mistress as to depart from her rule of monosyllables and say,—

"That Brentwood boy knows more about the fire than he tells. Perhaps he set it and Master Gay didn't tell on him—expecting he'd tell himself—and he saw his chance and kept quiet. That's what I think."

"You had much better not think at all if you can't think of something sensible!" Sarah replied. "What makes you think so?" she added, a moment later, not without curiosity.

"I don't know, ma'am, but I do think so."

"I have my opinion of persons who don't know why they think a thing. It all comes of your stuffing your head with romantic nonsense instead of doing something useful. You've read silly romances till you've lost what little reasoning power nature gave you."

"Yes'm," said Phyllis, meekly, but without altering her opinion.

Sarah had once found a novel in Phyllis's room, and from that time forth all of Phyllis's shortcomings, from careless dusting to forgetfulness of the thirty-nine articles of the Episcopalian faith, had been ascribed by Sarah to the pernicious influence of the romance!

Phyllis not only held to her opinion of May's innocence but she did what she could to comfort and cheer her. She could not, however, with all her loving companionship, save May from many sad hours. At first May thought Philip would speak, but as time went on and he remained silent she resigned this hope. The General's refusal to take her word closed her lips; not even to sympathetic Phyllis and loyal Sarah did she mention her disgrace. At times she thought of writing to her father, telling all and allowing him to establish her innocence, but the fear of annoying her sick mother, an independent disposition to bear her own burdens and the feeling that Philip must some time realize the injustice of his conduct, and make amends for it, withheld her. May's greatest comfort was found in writing in her diary; there the whole story was told, fully and accurately. She did not write any letters at this time, she shrank from disclosing the unhappy condition of affairs to the other conspirator, whose daily letters were filled with glowing descriptions of new friends and good times. Gay was riding on the top wave of success and popularity while she was wretched and in disgrace; it was not strange, therefore, that the thought sometimes obtruded itself, "Those good times might have been mine if Gay had not persisted in keeping on my clothes."

It must not be supposed that Philip was satisfied with himself; but he was a coward, and he not only succeeded in dodging his conscience, but he was even weak and wicked enough to take further advantage of May.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day after the fire and the General was in his library when Dr. Brentwood came in, looking disturbed and even angry.

"General," said he, "do you know what kind of boy that nephew of yours is?"

The General grew red in the face; criticism of any one "with Haines blood in their veins," to use his frequent expression, was distasteful to him.

"As he is my nephew I presume he is, on the whole, a very good kind of boy," he said, at length.

"He is a very bad kind of boy, indeed," the doctor replied. "He is a dangerous boy."

"What has he done? Can't you speak out?" roared the General.

"He gave Philip both cigarettes and tobacco, threatening him with some form of torture if he did not smoke them. We found the tobacco on Philip's premises and forced him into a full confession of your nephew's culpability."

"This explains the match and the fire," thought the General. He said aloud, "I will question Gay about the matter."

"He will deny it; Philip said he would, and the poor boy begged me, with tears in his eyes, not to tell you of it. I thought you ought to know it, for, from what Philip says, Gay must be a hard case," the doctor said.

The General rang the bell and Phyllis answered it.

"Send Gay here," commanded the General.

"Yes, sir," said Phyllis, hurrying away, for she surmised that the doctor's presence might be of benefit to the unhappy child.

"Run, Gay," she said to May, when she found her, "Dr. Brentwood is in the library, and they want you."

"Philip has told," May thought, with delight.

She went quickly to the library and stood before the General with a lighter heart than she had carried since she had been in disgrace. "I'm all right, now," thought she.

"Gay," said the General, sternly, "the doctor tells me that you have given tobacco to Philip, threatening him if he did not use it at your bidding. What have you to say?"

Poor May! Her hope died away at those words. For an instant she was tempted to cast aside her disguise, to say, "I am a girl," and stand forth in her true colors. No one would believe that a girl had given a boy tobacco.

"Well," said the General, impatiently, "what have you to say for yourself?"

"That it is not true," said May.

"I told you he would deny it," said the doctor.

"It is useless to deny it; Philip has said that you did it," said the General.

"Philip has said what is not true," May said.

"Do you question Philip's word?" blustered the doctor.

"There is no question about it, sir; Philip doesn't know how to speak the truth," May replied.

"Gay," said the General, in his most decided manner, "I insist that you take back the words you have spoken to Dr. Brentwood, and that you promise to apologize to Philip."

"I can't take back what I have said, because it is true. And I shall not apologize to Philip," May answered, unflinchingly.

"Leave the room, sir!" shouted the General, looking very red and angry.

Then when May had left the room to weep bitter tears in the arms of the faithful Phyllis, the General said,—

"Doctor, you see what a stubborn boy he is! But he shall apologize handsomely to you and to Philip before the week has passed."

And with this assurance the doctor went away.

When the doctor was gone the General summoned Sarah and related the events that had just occurred.

"Now," said he, with an ominous flash in his deep-set eyes, "we will see what bread and water and solitary confinement will do for the young rebel."

"Who will play jailer?" Sarah asked, with eyes that flashed as brightly as the General's. "I certainly shall not."

"Then I will," said the General, with decision.

"You will be alone in the jail, for I shall not keep house for a jailer," said Sarah with equal decision. "Remember that!"