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"Boys," said Locke, facing the room like a man, "we've been--well, just
cads. And right here I propose that Shag Larocque read the address to
His Excellency to-day."
"And I second the motion," said Shorty--"second it heartily"; then he
walked over to Shag.
"I'm not going to ask you to shake hands with me, Larocque," he said;
"I've been too much of a cad for that. You must despise me too much to
forgive me, despise me for my cowardice in not going with you to help
Hal when he was drowning, despise me for my mean prejudices, despise me
for--oh, pshaw! I ain't fit to even ask you to forgive me. I ain't fit
to even offer you my hand."
"Hold on! hold on!" smiled Shag. "There is nothing to despise in a chap
who is big enough to offer an apology. Here's my hand, Shorty. Will you
take it at last?"
And Shorty took it.
A few hours later, just before Shag stepped out on the platform to read
the address to His Excellency, he paid a flying visit to Hal, who,
feeling much better, in fact quite on the mend, was sitting up in bed
devouring toast and broth.


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