"He is also," added Robert Starbird, "a grandson of Colonel Richard Butler at Chestnut Hill."
"Indeed! Colonel Butler is a warm friend of mine. I was not aware that—is your name Penfield Butler?"
"Yes, sir," replied Pen. Something in the man's changed tone of voice sent a sudden fear to his heart.
"Are you the boy who is said to have mistreated the American flag on the school grounds at Chestnut Hill?"
"I—suppose I am. Yes, sir."
Pen's heart was now in his shoes. The man with white side-whiskers raked him from head to foot with a look that boded no good. He turned to his nephew.
"I've heard of that incident," he said. "I do not think we want this young man in our employ."
Robert Starbird looked first at his uncle and then at Pen. It was plain that he was puzzled. It was equally plain that he was disappointed.
"I didn't know about this," he said. "I'm sorry if it's anything that necessitates our depriving him of the job. Penfield, suppose you retire to the waiting-room for a few minutes. I'll talk this matter over with Major Starbird."
So Pen, with the ghosts of his misdeeds haunting and harassing him, and a burden of disappointment, too heavy for any boy to bear, weighing him down, retired to the waiting-room. For the first time since his act of disloyalty he felt that his punishment was greater than he deserved. Not that he bore resentment now against any person, but he believed the retribution that was following him was unjustly proportioned to the gravity of his offense. And if Major Starbird refused to receive him, what could he do then?