“Oh, but you’re not—not going away, Dan!” said Freddy. “And I can’t take your medal, anyhow. I’d remember you without it. You’re the best chum I ever had,—the very best. And—and—”
The speaker broke off, stammering; for a second visitor had suddenly appeared at his bedside: Father Regan who had entered the infirmary unheard and unseen, and who now stood with his eyes fixed in grave displeasure on the daring Dan.
III.—A Judgment.
“Dan Dolan!” said Father Regan, as the reckless interloper flushed and paled beneath his steady gaze.
“Dan Dolan!” echoed Brother Tim, who had come in behind his honored visitor. “How ever did he get past me! I’ve been saying my beads at the door without this half hour.”
“Swung in by Old Top,” ventured Dan, feeling concealment was vain.
“You dared Old Top at this height, when scarcely a bough is sound! You must be mad, boy. It is God’s mercy that you did not break your neck. Don’t you know the tree is unsafe?”
“Yes, Father,” answered Dan. “But—but I had to see Freddy again, and they wouldn’t let me come up. I just had to see him, if it killed me.”
And there was a sudden break in the young voice that startled his hearer. But a glance at the dizzy and forbidden height of Old Top and Father Regan was stern again.
“Why did you have to see him, if it killed you?” he asked briefly.