Melville Carter reached across and rumpled up Donald Hall's hair.
"Quit it, kiddo!" protested Donald nervously, drawing back from his chum's grasp.
"What's the matter with you, all of a sudden?" demanded Melville, surprised.
"Nothing! Cut it out, that's all."
"Aren't you coming to Greek?" asked young Carter.
"In a minute. Trot along; I want to speak to Kip."
The throng filed out until only Donald and Paul were in the room.
The editor-in-chief was standing alone at the window. For the first time in weeks he was drawing the breath of freedom. A weight seemed removed from his soul. He had been weak and vacillating, but when the test had come he had not been false either to himself or to his friends. That at least was something.
Thinking that he was alone, he drew from his pocket the fifty-dollar bill that was to have been the price of his undoing, and looked at it. He would take it back that very day to Mr. Carter and confess that he had not fulfilled the contract the newspaper owner had tried to force upon him. A smile parted his lips. It was as he turned to leave the room that he encountered Donald Hall.
The expression of the lad's face gave him a start; there was shame, regret, suffering in it.