Mr. Huntress would not curtail him in any of his privileges, and so again sent him to a pleasant spot in the country with a tutor, a boat, and a couple of saddle-horses, and the coaching went on as faithfully as ever. The result was that Geoffrey passed his examinations without a condition, and then felt that his hardest work was over; he would need to burn no more midnight oil, and when there came a recess he would feel at liberty to enjoy it as others did and gain a little of the rest he so much needed. He was not idle, however. Gladys had told him that she would expect great things of him, and “great things” he meant to accomplish, if it were possible, for her sake. At the beginning of the year Huntress and Mapleson were dubbed “the twins” of their class, and not long afterward it was whispered that they stood about equal in the race for first honors. Some were inclined to think that Huntress would win the day, others that Mapleson would be the favored one. When the verdict was finally rendered in favor of Geoffrey, Everet Mapleson swore an angry oath, although his own name stood second on the list. “He has seemed like some bad spirit pursuing me with some evil purpose in view, ever since he entered college,” he muttered, distorting facts that would have seemed just the reverse to any one else. “If I could only find out the secret of his life I might ruin him, even now, before the year is ended. I’d give half of my expectations if I could find that old woman; but I’m afraid she’s dead, and all that mystery buried with her. “Well, I must calmly submit to his good fortune in excelling all his competitors,” he continued. “I’ve done my best to win and I stand next, which is some comfort. If I could have stood first I would have gone to Gladys and told her that I worked for her sake, and perhaps she might have listened to me. I wonder if she will stand first in her class. I must run up to Poughkeepsie to see the little lady graduate; the commencement there comes a few days earlier than ours this year.” However much Everet Mapleson inwardly regretted the loss of the first honors, he betrayed it to no one else—he appeared to take the appointments as a matter of course, and spared no pains to make his own oration worthy and brilliant. But underneath all this outward calm there lay a relentless purpose to some day have ample revenge upon his rival for his disappointment. As soon as Geoffrey learned of his good fortune he hastened to telegraph the news to Gladys. “I shall not disappoint you—the first honor is mine,” were the words which went flying over the wires to the beautiful girl at Vassar. Gladys had just come in from a walk when she received it, and the principal, as he handed it to her, marveled at her exceeding beauty.