Harple did not go down. He sat in his chair by the window, with his face in his hands, and waited for his friend. Brightly came down the hall at last, with hesitating steps.
“Don’t look at me, Charley,” he said, as he entered the room; “don’t look at me!”
His voice was weak and broken. The very sound of it roused all the pity in Harple’s compassionate nature. He rose from his chair, took one of Brightly’s hands in his, put his arm around Brightly’s neck, and laid his face against Brightly’s wet, cold cheek. That was the welcome. It was a long time before Brightly found his voice again. When he did, it was only long enough to say,—
“O Charley, it’s been terrible! terrible!”
They did not talk much after that. Harple knew, from the first word that his chum had spoken, that no admonition was needed from him. He helped Brightly to remove his wet garments and clothe himself in dry ones, and then he considerately left the room.
It was after supper that Brightly took down his military coat, and severed the shoulder-straps from it, and the honor-grade chevrons from the sleeves. Then he took these, and his sword and sash, and went downstairs. He crossed through the private hall to Colonel Silsbee’s office door, knocked, and was bidden to enter. The principal was there alone. Brightly laid the insignia of his rank on the table before Colonel Silsbee.
“I have brought these things to you,” he said. “I have no right to them any more. I have worn them unworthily. There was no excuse for my going away. I have been very foolish and wicked and ungrateful.”
He hesitated a moment, then went on: “I would like to speak about that night that you called me in before Brede and Finkelton to explain my marks. That was a lie that I told then. The figures were correct before. I did not change them; I don’t know, certainly, who did. I would like to have them put back as they were. I hope it won’t be necessary to send me away. I look at things very differently from what I did yesterday. I am ready to stand any punishment. I don’t want to be released from any,—I didn’t come to you for that; I only wanted you to know that I’m not rebellious any longer—nor careless—nor—”
But here the lad broke down. He had spoken with painful hesitancy for a whole minute.