After the evening meal Colonel Butler went out; a somewhat unusual occurrence, as, in his later years, he had become increasingly fond of his books and papers, his wood-fire and his easy chair. But, on this particular evening, there was to be a meeting of a certain patriotic society of which he was an enthusiastic member, and he felt that he must attend it. After he had gone Pen tried to study, but he could not keep his thought on his work. Then he took up a stirring piece of fiction and began to read: but the most exciting scenes depicted in it floated hazily across his mind. His Aunt Millicent tried to engage him in conversation, but he either could not or did not wish to talk. At nine o'clock he said good-night to his aunt, and retired to his room. At half past nine Colonel Butler returned home. His daughter went into the hall and greeted him and helped him off with his coat, but he scarcely spoke to her. When he came in under the brighter lights of the library, she saw that his face was haggard, his jaws set, and his eyes strangely bright. "What is it, father?" she said. "Something has happened." He did not reply to her question, but he asked: "Has Penfield retired?" "He went to his room a good half hour ago, father." "I desire to see him." "He may have gone to bed." "I desire to see him under any circumstances. You will please communicate my wish to him." "But, father--" "Did you hear me, daughter?" "Father! What terrible thing has happened?" "A thing so terrible that I desire confirmation of it from Penfield's lips before I shall fully believe it. You will please call him." She could not disobey that command. She went tremblingly up the stairs and returned in a minute or two to say: "Pen had not yet gone to bed, father. He will be down as soon as he puts on his coat and shoes." "Very well." Colonel Butler seated himself in his accustomed chair and awaited the advent of his grandson. When Pen entered the library a few minutes later, his Aunt Millicent was still in the room. "Millicent," said the colonel, "will you be good enough to retire for a time? I wish to speak to Penfield alone." She rose and started toward the hall, but turned back again. "Father," she said, "if Pen is to be reprimanded for anything he has done, I wish to know about it." "This is a matter," replied the colonel, severely, "that can be adjusted only between Penfield and me." She saw that he was determined, and left the room. When the rustle attendant upon her ascent of the staircase had died completely out, the colonel turned toward Pen. He spoke quietly enough, but with an emotion that was plainly suppressed. "Penfield, you may stand where you are and answer certain questions that I shall ask you." "Yes, grandfather."