THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD
like the thieving coward he was. "I wrote the other essay," he said, and told the title of it in corroboration. Accordingly they gave the prize to him; and to the other, who was white and ghastly, they gave a contemptuous look.
An hour later the two roommates met in their rooms. The thief and liar, now being the cooler of the two, said, "Well, here we are; what are you going to do about it?"
The other "drew himself up to his full height" and spoke. "Nothing, Charles; you are my friend!"—which he had read in a book.
He did not do this because he loved "Charles"; naturally, he hadn't much use for him any more; but he thought he was doing the fine, magnanimous, grand-stand thing, and he loved that. He had the self-conscious satisfaction of living up to an ideal of friendship as exemplified in romance. And, let me tell you, all the time he was doing it and exulting in his heroism he was secretly expecting and counting upon the day of triumph when "all would be re-
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