right, Aunt Caroline."

Bill's large bulk showed signs of considerable agitation, but his aunt did not observe them.

"I gather from what he said, William, that he is something more than just a valet to you. He told me about your talks together on theology. I feel sure that he is going to be a very good influence. He told me about how hard you worked in your classes, and the honors you won, and all the temptations you resisted. He did not say that he helped you to resist them, but he did not need to. I could understand."

Aunt Caroline nodded in confirmation of her own statement.

"I hope he is orthodox," she added. "I shall ask him about that some time."

There was a dull-red in Bill's cheeks. Suddenly he excused himself and bolted. Aunt Caroline reached for the very conservative magazine she affected.

Up-stairs in Bill's room a young man was sprawled on a couch. He was smoking a pipe and staring up at the ceiling as Bill thundered in and slammed the door behind him.

"Pete, what in blazes have you been saying to my aunt?"

The valet grinned, yawned and stretched. Bill jerked a pillow from under his head, gripped him mercilessly by one shoulder and spun him into a sitting posture.

"Ouch! Leggo, you mastodon."

"What have you been saying?" repeated Bill savagely.

"Oh, whatever she told you, I suppose. Two to one I made it stick, anyhow."

Mr. Peter Stearns, who had accompanied Bill home from college, smiled benignly. He was a frail-looking young man, utterly unlike Bill, whose mold was heroic. He was also mild-looking; there was a baffling depth of innocence in his eyes, a placid expression of peace on his lean features. There was even a hint of piety that might pass current among the unwary.

"You filled her up with a lot of bull about me being first in the class and you having religion—you!"

"Didn't she like it?" asked Pete mildly.

"Of course she did, you fool idiot!"

"Then why the roar?"

"Because it's going to make a devil of a mess; that's why. Now we've got to live up to things."

Pete whistled a careless note and shrugged.

"That might be a good stunt, too, Bill."

Bill wheeled away in disgust, then charged back.

"You know as well as I do that we can't live up to it—neither of us. You've filled her bean with a lot of fool notions. Oh, Lord, Pete! I had no business to bring you."

"Bill, answer me this: am I making things more exciting?"

"Exciting! You're making them batty."

"Did I ever fail you?"

"Oh, shut up!"

"Did I ever hesitate to give the best that was in me, Bill?"

"Cut out the bunk; you can't pull it on me. Didn't I have enough trouble getting through college at all? Didn't I just miss getting the razz from the faculty? Didn't they let me through for fear if they didn't I'd come back? And now you butt in and make me the president of the class and one of those magna cum laudæ guys. Why, you'll have my Aunt Caroline writing to the college to tell 'em how happy she is and how much money she's going to leave 'em!"

Pete made a reassuring gesture.

"No, she won't, Bill. I'll fix that the next time I talk to her. I'll tell her——"

"You won't tell her one damn thing. You've said plenty now. You lay off, do you hear? You—you—divinity student!"

Pete smiled brightly.

"Do you know, Bill, when I did that I honestly believe I pulled off a new stunt. I doubt if it's been done before. Don't sneer, Bill, I mean it. And don't you worry about my getting away with it. I'll swing the job; you watch."

"But why in blazes did you have to start in telling lies?"

"Why, I was only making things softer for you, old man. We'll assume your aunt has always been fond of you, although God knows why. Anyhow, we'll assume it. But she's more than fond of you now, Bill. She thinks you're not only a lovable man mountain, but she also thinks you're the world's leading intellect. Why? Simply because I told an innocent fib that has harmed nobody."

Bill grunted savagely.

"As for the rest of it," remarked Pete, "each of us must carve his own destiny. I carved mine according to such lights as I had at the moment. Your aunt is pleased with me; most ladies are. Tut, Bill; I speak but the simple truth. What there is about me I don't know. Something too subtle for analysis, I fancy. But, anyhow, you old rip, she likes me. In giving myself an excellent character I also aid you, which was something I had particularly in mind. I am always your little helper, Bill; always and forever. Your aunt feels that it confers honor upon you to consort with a young man of religious tendencies. You have risen a hundred per cent, not only as an intellectual, but as a moralist. Why, it's almost like having religion yourself, Bill."

Bill Marshall shook a stern finger of warning.

"You've got to stop it, Pete. I won't stand for it. You'll ruin us."

"Oh, I'll get by," said Pete, comfortably.

"Will you? I think you are riding for a fall. How far will you get if she ever finds out you come from the Stearns family?"

Pete became thoughtful.

"She doesn't like us, does she?"

"She thinks your whole outfit is poison. Understand, Pete; I'm only saying what she thinks. I haven't any of the family prejudice myself."

"That's nice."

"As a matter of fact, I don't know what the trouble is all about, anyhow. It goes away back. It's a sort of an old family feud; I never bothered with it. It's nothing in my life—but it is in Aunt Caroline's. All you've got to do is to mention the name to her and she broadsides. Why, if she knew that I had anything to do with a Stearns I wouldn't last five minutes under this roof."

"I won't tell her, Bill," said Pete, soothingly.

Aunt Caroline's heir presumptive packed a pipe and lighted it. For several minutes he smoked ferociously.

"I'm afraid I've made a mistake in bringing you here at all," he said. "It's bad enough to have you a Stearns, but if she knew you had been expelled from college—well, it can't be expressed. Why did you have to insist on being my valet, anyhow? If you'd just come along as a friend, under any old name, it would have been a lot better."

"No, Bill; I figured that all out. Your Aunt Caroline was suspicious of all college friends; you told me so yourself. She worried about bad company and all that sort of thing. But she won't worry about a poor young man who is working his way in the world and getting ready to reform the heathen. No; I'm better as a valet. Besides, I don't have to give any name except Peter, which is my own. That keeps you from making breaks and saves me from telling a lie."

Bill shook his head gloomily.

"We're off to a bad start," he grumbled. "I don't like it."

"Well, let's be gay and bold about it, anyhow," said Pete. "To become practical, Bill, what sort of accommodations do I draw here? Do I room with you?"

"In your capacity as my valet I imagine you'll get a room in the servants' quarters. Aunt Caroline may put you out in the stable."

"That's a pleasant way to treat a pal," observed Pete.

"Take my tip and get that pal stuff out of your head. You'll forget yourself in front of my aunt some day."

There was a knock at the door and Bill found one of the maids standing in the hall.

"Your aunt would like to see you in the library, Mr. William, if it's convenient," she said.

"I'll be right down."

He turned and glared at Pete.

"I've got a hunch that she's tumbled to you already," he said. "If she has, you'd better go out by that window; it's only a twenty-foot jump."

Pete smiled