“No; I should like to do so, but cannot.”

“You are one of Oscar’s friends from the city, I suppose, then?”

“Oh no; I am living in Centreville.”

“Who can he be?” thought Fitz.  With considerable less cordiality in his manner, he continued, impelled by curiosity,—­

“I don’t think I have met you before.”

“No:  I have only just come to the village.”

Oscar understood thoroughly the bewilderment of his visitor, and enjoyed it.  He knew the weakness of Fitz, and he could imagine how his feelings would change when be ascertained the real position of Harry.

“My friend,” he explained, “is connected with the ’Centreville Gazette.’”

“In what capacity?” asked Fitz, in surprise.

“He is profanely termed the ‘printer’s devil.’  Isn’t that so, Harry?”

“I believe you are right,” said our hero, smiling.  He had a suspicion that this relation would shock his new acquaintance.

“Indeed!” ejaculated Fitz, pursing up his lips, and, I was about to say, turning up his nose, but nature had saved him the little trouble of doing that.

“What in the world brings him here, then?” he thought; but there was no need of saying it, for both Oscar and Harry read it in his manner.  “Strange that Oscar Vincent, from one of the first families of Boston, should demean himself by keeping company with a low printer boy!”

“Harry and I have had a jolly time popping corn this evening!” said Oscar, choosing to ignore his school-mate’s changed manner.

“Indeed!  I can’t see what fun there is in it.”

“Oh, you’ve got no taste.  Has he, Harry?”

“His taste differs from ours,” said our hero, politely.

“I should think so,” remarked Fitz, with significant emphasis.  “Was that all you had to amuse yourself?”

In using the singular pronoun, he expressly ignored the presence of the young printer.

“No, that wasn’t all.  My friend Harry has been amusing me with some tricks which he learned while he was travelling round with Professor Henderson, the ventriloquist and magician.”

“Really, he is quite accomplished,” said Fitz, with a covert sneer.  “Pretty company Oscar has taken up with!” he thought.  “How long were you in the circus business?” he asked, turning to Harry.

“I never was in the circus business.”

“Excuse me.  I should say, travelling about with the ventriloquist.”

“About three months.  I was with him when he performed here last winter.”

“Ah! indeed.  I didn’t go.  My father doesn’t approve of my attending such common performances.  I only attend first-class theatres, and the Italian opera.”

“That’s foolish,” said Oscar.  “You miss a good deal of fun, then.  I went to Professor Henderson’s entertainment, and I now remember seeing you there, Harry.  You took money at the door, didn’t you?”