“Shall we not be expelled, sir?” Buttertub asked.
“Never! My school has need of young men who can acknowledge a fault so honourably. I consider that your generous conduct has wiped the misdemeanour from existence. You have suffered sufficiently, and I have no fear that such a thing will ever occur again. I shall only ask you to make this acknowledgment complete by sending Madame —— a written apology for intruding in so unwarrantable a manner upon her school. I shall call upon her personally and deliver it.”
“And my father will not feel that I have disgraced him,” Buttertub said slowly, unconscious that he was speaking aloud.
“I shall tell the Bishop,” said Colonel Grey, “that he has a son to be proud of.”
Ricos staggered off to bed, and Buttertub sought Stacey and reported.
“You are a trump!” Stacey cried, “I never realized before what a hero you are. I beg your pardon for every unkind thing I have thought or said about you, and if you will accept my friendship it’s yours forever. It is time for supper now, and after that we’ll find Terwilliger and tell him the news.”
Jim improved rapidly after this. If Ricos had known that he would recover he might not have confessed, and there was a lingering feeling in his mind that Jim had no right to get well, and was taking a mean advantage of him in not fulfilling his part of the bargain and winging his way to Paradise, to tell the angels that Ricos was not such a bad fellow after all. Still, he never really regretted Jim’s recovery or his own avowal. It cleared his conscience of a great load, and the boys, having heard that Ricos had made amende honorable, no longer complimented him with the terms “chump and mucker,” but accepted his presents of guava jelly and other West India delicacies, and as he had the Spanish gift for guitar-playing, elected him to the banjo club.
A little after this Mrs. Roseveldt gave her last reception for that season. She had not forgotten the proposed plan of the tennis tournament at Narragansett Pier, and she invited Stacey to come and talk it up with Milly.
In spite of his declaration of war against all womankind, Stacey accepted the invitation eagerly. Stacey was himself again, yet not quite his old giddy self. The disappointment and trouble which he had experienced had changed him for the better. He was less of a fop and more of a man, than when he tossed his baton so airily before his drum corps at the annual drill. But he was still something of an exquisite in dress. His father had given him permission to order a dress suit for the occasion of prize declamation, and Stacey besieged his tailor until he agreed to have it done in time for Mrs. Roseveldt’s reception.
Milly went home the day before. We had all been invited, but had decided virtuously that we could not spare the time from our studies, while I had, as an additional reason, the knowledge that I had no costume suitable for such a grand society affair. Milly described it all afterward, and I enjoyed her description more than I would have cared for the party itself.