“You’ve bought mother’s present!” exclaimed Roy.  “What did you get?  Let me see it,”

“No, I want to keep it a secret till I give it to her,” replied Rex quickly.  “Now about that three dollars, can you let me have it, old fellow?”

“Certainly I can, but be sure to give it back to me Monday, as I haven’t enough to get the present I have set my heart on.  I’ll—­ but there, if you won’t tell about yours, I shan’t say anything about mine.  Then we’ll have a grand surprise party all around on the third.”

Roy stepped to his dressing case and took out a two dollar and a one dollar bill, which he handed to Rex.

“Thanks, ever so much,” murmured the latter.  “Good night,” and he hurried back to his own room.

He had never felt so mean in his life.  Not only had he just obtained money under false pretenses, but he had told two or three falsehoods of the most unblushing description.

Roy’s very readiness to oblige him added to his weight of remorse.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to tuck the money away in his pocket book.  Was he really a criminal? he asked himself.

How horrified they had all been when they thought Mr. Charles Keeler had been an inmate of jails.  Was it any worse to have committed a crime and have been punished for it, than to commit the crime and not be found out?

For a moment or two he was—­ shall I call it tempted?—­ to go back to his brother’s room, return the three dollars and confess the whole thing.  Then he thought of New York, of his induction to a college town, of his promise to Harrington to meet him at the station.

“No; I must go now,” he reflected.  “I can call it sowing my wild oats,” and he undressed as quickly as possible and got into bed, as if fearful that his repentant tendencies would conquer in spite of him.

He was very quiet the next day.  About ten o’clock Harrington came in to see him.  It was the first time he had ever been to the house.  Rex had not asked him, thinking he had no special attractions to offer him.

Mrs. Pell and the girls were out shopping.  Roy was down at the office with Syd.  Rex asked Harrington if he would like to come up in his room.

“Of course I would.  A fellow’s generally curious about the inside of a house when he’s been looking on the outside of it half the days of his life.”

So Rex took him up stairs.  He admired the “den,” as he called it, immensely.

“Wait till you see mine at Yale,” he added, as he struck a match to light his inveterate cigarette.  “I don’t do much fixing up at home here, I’m here so little.  By the way, you don’t mind me smoking, do you?”

“Oh, no,” replied Rex faintly.

Nevertheless, he was wondering what his mother would say if the odor still lingered when she came.  Sydney did not smoke at all, and the entire family abominated cigarettes.

Mrs. Pell did come home shortly after Harrington had taken his departure.  She came up to the third floor to put away some flannels she had bought for the boys.