Cadet Kindred was not a vain fellow, but what man does not feel the bewitchment of having eyes watch for him and look up to him, even though he be too careless of them to know their colour? What man does not like to have his words counted and treasured as if they held the distilled wisdom of the sages and the ages? And Magnus was also minus a dictionary, and did not know how to spell things one bit. The girl _must_ have a good time, he told himself, she could not be left riding at anchor while all the rest set sail, and what might happen if he too often played pilot, to that he never gave a thought. All _that_ was in the realm of impossibility, in this connection. Wise men and poor girls. It looked so impossible to other eyes, and the girl kept her own counsel so well that it drew little notice. Rig did once or twice ask Magnus if he was getting rattled with that little Bee girl, and some others remarked that Kin was practising how to flirt when the time came; but such words were empty air to Magnus. It was well for all parties that June stepped in, with its absorbing demands. There were plenty of men who did more flirting and frolicking now than ever, but not so Magnus Kindred. Everything dropped out of his life but home and furlough. Each night he wrote to his mother about three lines, telling her what the "Exam" had done with him that day, and in all the other between-times he was either freshening up his knowledge of some hard points of study, or he was taking long walks with June, and June only, to clear his brain. If he heard voices, or caught a glimpse of grey coats or red parasols, Magnus sheered off, scaling the rocks or scrambling down the cliffs to some breakneck spot, quite beyond reach for any cadet who had girls in tow. There he would lie on the moss and listen to the river, or the bell notes of the thrush; listen without hearing, as he planned his journey home. He would take such a train, and make such a connection, and jump off at the old station at just such a time. He would not tell them quite when to expect him, because they would be sure to come to meet him, and some of them would cry--right there before everybody. And it was a bother to attend to your luggage with three girls round your neck. But then Magnus laughed and coloured too. There could hardly be _three_--yet somehow two seemed even more objectionable. And still if he sent no word, and they did not meet him, there was a good half hour lost from that end of his furlough. So he argued it, back and forth. And all the while, poor little Miss Bee was weeping secret tears over the seeming defection of her knight. She _must_ have displeased him somehow. "My sisters can hardly wait until I get home!" said Mr. Randolph one night. "There's another man's sister can hardly wait until I do," said Clive. XXV FURLOUGH Den away, away, for I can't wait any longer. Hooray! Hooray! I's goin' home! --_Old Shady._