"Of course not," cried Charlie. "You've hidden yourself long enough.
It will do you a world of good to get out; and, beside, I always do
feel like a sneak when I'm having a good time and you're moping up
here in this dirty old place."

Dick looked around. "I've moped in worse places," he said. "But I'll
go with you to-night and be as giddy as you please. I'll whisper pretty
nothings to the female lambkins and exchange commonplace lies with the
young gentlemen, and then--why then--we'll come away again and
straightway forget what manner of things we said and did, and they
won't count when we meet on the street before folks."

"That's all right," returned the other. "You just come anyway and see
how badly you're mistaken. I'll call for you at seven-thirty sharp."
And he left him cleaning up for his mid-day lunch.

When Charlie returned to the office that evening he found Dick dressed
ready to go, and a strange contrast the latter presented to the
poorly-clad, half-starved tramp who had walked into Boyd City only a
few weeks before. Some thought of this flashed through Dick's mind as
he read the admiration in his friend's face, and his own eyes glowed
with pleasure. Then a shadow swiftly came, but only for a moment. He
was determined to forget, for one evening at least. "Come on," he cried
gaily, squaring his shoulders as though looking forward to a battle,
"my soul seemeth anxious for the fray."

Charlie laughed as he answered, "I only hope that you'll come off
whole. There will be some mighty nice girls there to-night. Look out
you don't get your everlasting."