"Braith thinks he looks like a Prussian and is afraid," mused
Clifford.

"Come on, won't you, Braith?" said Gethryn.

"Are you going?"

"Why not?" said the other, uneasily, "and why won't you?"

"No French mob for me," answered Braith, quietly. "You fellows had
better keep away. You don't know what you may get into. I saw the
siege, and the man who was in Paris in '71 has seen enough."

"Oh, this is nothing serious," urged Clifford. "If they fire I
shall leg it; so will the lordly Reginald; so will we all."

Braith dug his hands into the pockets of his velveteens, and shook his
head.

"No," he said, "I've got some work to do. So have you, Rex."

"Come on, we're off," shouted Thaxton from the stairway.

Clifford seized Gethryn's arm, Elliott and Rhodes crowded on behind. A
small earthquake shock followed as the crowd of students launched
itself down the stairs.

"Braith doesn't approve of my cutting the atelier so often," said
Gethryn, "and he's right. I ought to have stayed."