In which Clarence relieves the reader of all possible doubts concerning his ability as a trencherman, and the Reverend Rector of Campion reads disastrous news.

Throwing up the window-shades, the President hurried over to the boy, who had arisen at his entrance, and took a sharp look at the blue lips and the pallid face.

“Sit down,” he said, “and wait till I come back.”

Father Keenan, who at that time happened to be President of Campion College, bolted from the room—a most undignified thing for a Rector to do. On his way out, he detected hanging on a chair in the obscurest corner of the parlor the dripping “trunks” which were still puzzling the good porter. That much-perturbed man was standing outside in anticipation of further orders.

“Brother, go to the refectory and tell the refectorian to get up a quick breakfast for a hungry boy. Then go to the clothes-keeper and get a complete outfit of clothes for a fourteen-year-old and have them in the parlor inside of ten minutes. If the clothes-keeper says he hasn’t any, tell him to steal them.”

The words were not well out of Father Keenan’s mouth when he was dashing along the corridor. The infirmary was close at hand, and the infirmarian in his office.

“Here quick, drink this down,” cried the Rector a moment later, putting to the young Indian’s mouth a small glass of cognac.

Clarence swallowed it at a gulp, whereupon while he coughed and choked and sputtered, the Rector, a veritable Good Samaritan, threw a heavy overcoat, which he had brought with him, over the flaming table cover.

“Does it burn?” asked the Rector, referring not to the coat but the cognac.

“I—I’m not a regular drinker,” said the youth wrapping the coat about him and breaking into the ghost of his old smile.

“This way, now,” continued Father Keenan, catching the boy’s arm; and he led him into the corridor.

The boy’s steps were faltering, and the Rector at once, noticing his weakness, caught him about the waist much as John Rieler had done, and bundled him into the refectory.

“This way, Father,” said the refectorian, trying to look as though he were accustomed to feeding bare-legged boys attired in table-covers and winter overcoats in summer-time; and the “Squire,” as he was popularly known among the students of Campion, pointed to a seat in front of which waited a plate of toast, a juicy bit of beefsteak and a huge slice of cornbread.

At sight of the food, Clarence slipped from the Rector’s grasp and fell unbidden into the seat.

For the next five minutes he showed that in the matter of eating he was perfectly able to take care of himself.

The Rector and the Squire interrupted their observation of the much occupied youth by gazing at each other now and then and exchanging smiles of wonder and admiration.

“If you’re thinking of coming to school here, my boy,” observed the Rector, when Clarence had disposed of all the beefsteak and most of the toast and three-fourths of ............