“Well, on the whole, that is not a discouraging view,” said Bart, “and for one, I am obliged to you.”

Nevertheless, he pondered the whole matter, and turned to face calmly as he had before, the time when his novitiate should end, and he should actually enter upon his experiment.

“Now, Case, this is a serious matter.  A young and utterly unknown man, without money, friends, acquaintances or books, and doubtful whether he has brains, learning and capacity, in some small or large town, attacks the world, throws down his gage—­or rather nails it up, in the shape of a tin card, four by twelve inches, with his perfectly obscure name on it.  Think of it!  Just suppose you have a little back room, up stairs, with a table, two chairs, half a quire of paper, an inkstand, two steel pens, Swan’s Treatise, and the twenty-ninth volume of Ohio Statutes.  You would be very busy arranging all this array of things, and would whistle cheerfully till that was accomplished, and then you would grow sad, and sit down to wait and think—­”

“Of the rich Judge’s beautiful daughter,” broke in Case.

“And wait,” continued Bart.

“Oh, Bart!  I glory in your pluck and spunk,” said Case, “and I think of your performance as Major Noah said of Adam and Eve:  ’As touching that first kiss,’ said he, ’I have often thought I would like to have been the man who did it; but the chance was Adam’s.’”

“Ridgeley seems to be taken in hand by Miss Giddings,” said Kennedy; “that would not be a bad opening for an ambitious man.”

“Of the ripe years of twenty-three,” put in Case.  “The average age would be about right.  She has led out one or two of each crop of law students since she was sixteen.”

“What has been the trouble?” asked Kennedy.

“I don’t know.  They came, and went—­

  ’Their hold was frail, their stay was brief,
  Restless, and quick to pass away’—­

while she remains,” replied Case.  “Bart seems to be a new inspiration, and she is as gay and lively as a spring butterfly.”

“And worth forty young flirts,” observed Ransom.

“Oh, come, boys!” cried Bart, “hold up.  Miss Giddings is an attractive woman, full of accomplishment and goodness—­”

“And experience,” put in Case.

“Who permits me to enjoy her society sometimes,” continued Bart.  “The benefit and pleasure are wholly mine, and I can’t consent to hear her spoken of so lightly.”

“Bart is right, as usual,” said Case, gravely; “and I don’t know of anything more unmanly than the way we young men habitually talk of women.”

“Except the way they talk of us,” said Kennedy.

“You would expect a lady to speak in an unmanly way,” remarked Bart.  “Of course, if we are ever spoken of by them, it is in our absence; but I’ll venture that they seldom speak of us at all, and then in ignorance of our worst faults.  We are not likely to receive injustice at their hands.”