“Your name is there! I saw it with my own eyes; these eyes that otherwise had wept most bitter tears of vain regret, and poured their—”
“Bah! Stop right there! Well, I’m ready to recover now. I’m ready—say, Charley, look here! What about yourself? You took an appointment, too, didn’t you? Your name’s on the list, isn’t it?”
Lee stood for a moment without answering, the look of puzzled surprise on his handsome face breaking into one of amusement, and ending in a broad smile.
“Well, that’s one on me,” he said finally, as if partly ashamed of his remissness toward himself. “I forgot to look.”
“Forgot to look! Why, you saw my name! You couldn’t have helped seeing yours if it had been there.”
“Yes, but—but you see I wasn’t looking for mine—I didn’t—”
“Well, you are the—Charley Lee, you’re the best fellow in the world—positively the very best!”
Parmenter grasped Lee’s hand again, and tears came into his eyes. It was seldom he displayed so much emotion; but his friend’s unselfishness touched him deeply.
“Come,” he said, quietly, “let’s go over and see about the name of Charles Lee. It’s high time for some one to take an interest in that.”
He picked up his hat, took his friend’s arm, and they started to leave the room; but at the threshold they met Robinson, also one of the appointees, who told them that Lee’s name was on the list. Then there were general rejoicings and congratulations.