He tried not to keep step with the music--he even tried to think of quadratic equations--as he marched heroically on to the academy. His was the face of a Christian martyr relinquishing life for a good but hopeless cause. Late that afternoon Judge Hollis left his office and walked around to the academy. He had sympathized fully with Sandy, and wanted, if possible, to find out the result of the examination before going home. The report of the scholarship won would reconcile him to his disappointment. At the academy gate he met Mr. Moseley, who greeted him with a queer smile. They both asked the same question: "Where's Sandy?" As if in answer, there came a mighty shout from the street leading down to the depot. Turning, they saw a cheering, hilarious crowd; bright-flowered hats flashed among college caps, while shrill girlish voices rang out with the manly ones. Carried high in the air on the shoulders of a dozen boys, radiant with praise and success, sat the delinquent Sandy, and the tumult below resolved itself into one mighty cheer: "Kilday, Kilday! Won the day. Hooray!" CHAPTER XI "THE LIGHT THAT LIES" During the summer Sandy worked faithfully to make amends for his failure to win the scholarship. He had meekly accepted the torrent of abuse which Mrs. Hollis poured forth, and the open disapproval shown by the Meeches; he had winced under Martha's unspoken reproaches, and groaned over the judge's quiet disappointment. "You see, my boy," the judge said one day when they were alone, "I had set my heart on taking you into the office after next year. I had counted on the scholarship to put you through your last year at the academy." "It was the fool I was," cried Sandy, in deep contrition, "but if ye'll trust me the one time more, may I die in me traces if I ever stir out of them!" So sincere was his desire to make amends that he asked to read law with the judge in the evenings after his work was done. Nothing could have pleased the judge more; he sat with his back to the lamp and his feet on the window-sill, expounding polemics to his heart's desire. Sandy sat in the shadow and whittled. Sometimes he did not listen at all, but when he did, it was with an intensity of attention, an utter absorption in the subject, that carried him straight to the heart of the matter. Meanwhile he was unconsciously receiving a life-imprint of the old judge's native nobility. From the first summer Sandy had held a good position at the post-office. His first earnings had gone to a round little surgeon on board the steamship _America_. But since then his funds had run rather low. What he did not lend he contributed, and the result was a chronic state of bankruptcy. "You must be careful with your earnings," the judge warned. "It is not easy to live within an income." "Easier within it than without it, sir," Sandy answered from deep experience.