“Very well,” said Colonel Silsbee. “I still see no excuse for either of you. Belcher, you may go. Brightly, you will remain for a moment.”
When the door had closed behind Belcher, the principal motioned the other lad to a chair.
“Brightly,” he said, and there was kindness in his face and voice, “I have had it in mind for some time to have a little talk with you, and the occurrence of to-night seems now to have made it a necessity. You have not, of late, been keeping up to your usual standard in any department; your manner also has been indicative of dissatisfaction and carelessness. I am sorry for this, because I had grown accustomed to thinking of you as one of my first boys. Where does the fault lie, Brightly? Is it with us, or is it with you?”
The lad hesitated a moment before replying. Finally he said, “I didn’t think my standing and conduct here were appreciated. I tried to do very well, but it seemed to me that my efforts met with punishment rather than with reward. Of course that discouraged me, and lately I haven’t tried very hard to keep up.”
“Do you wish me to understand that you were disappointed in the rank assigned to you in the battalion?”
“Well, I thought I deserved to rank higher than first lieutenant.”
“I see. I can understand your feeling. But if a mistake was made, the mistake and the fault were ours, not yours. Moreover, there was no slight put upon you. You were given a very honorable position; it was your duty as a soldier to acquiesce in our judgment, and to accept the situation without question. To give you my reasons for making the appointments that I did, while you are in your present state of mind, would be subversive of discipline.
“I regret this affair of to-night more than you do,—very much more. I should be glad to relieve you of its consequences if it were possible, not only for your own sake, but for your mother’s as well; but it is not possible; my duty to you and to the school forbids it.
“I shall be obliged to suspend you from your office for a time; not long, I hope. It is my wish, also, that your mother may not learn of your disgrace until she can be informed also of your reformation and restoration.”
“I should prefer that myself. I think her feelings have been already sufficiently hurt in learning that I was not considered worthy of the promotion to which she believed, with me, that I was entitled.”