“It’s nothing when you’re used to it.  It’s only the first time you know, that troubles you.  By Jove!  I remember how my knees trembled when I first got up and said Mr. President.  I felt as if all eyes were upon me, and I wanted to sink through the floor.  Now I can get up and chatter with the best of them.  I don’t mean that I can make an eloquent speech or anything of that kind, but I can talk at a minute’s notice on almost any subject.”

“I wish I could.”

“Oh, you can, after you’ve tried a few times.  Well, then, it’s settled.  I’ll propose you at the next meeting.”

“How lucky I am to have fallen in with you, Oscar.”

“I know what you mean.  I’m your guide, philosopher, and friend, and all that sort of thing.  I hope you’ll have proper veneration for me.  It’s rather a new character for me.  Would you believe it, Harry,—­at home I am regarded as a rattle-brained chap, instead of the dignified Professor that you know me to be.  Isn’t it a shame?”

“Great men are seldom appreciated at home, Oscar.”

“I know that.  I shall have to get a certificate from you, certifying to my being a steady and erudite young man.”

“I’ll give it with the greatest pleasure.”

“Holloa, there’s a knock.  Come in!” shouted Oscar.

The door opened, and Fitzgerald Fletcher entered the room.

“How are you, Fitz?” said Oscar.  “Sit down and make yourself comfortable.  You know my friend, Harry Walton, I believe?”

“I believe I had the honor to meet him here one evening,” said Fitzgerald stiffly, slightly emphasizing the word “honor.”

“I hope you are well, Mr. Fletcher,” said Harry, more amused than disturbed by the manner of the aristocratic visitor.

“Thank you, my health is good,” said Fitzgerald with equal stiffness, and forthwith turned to Oscar, not deigning to devote any more attention to Harry.

Our hero had intended to remain a short time longer, but, under the circumstances, as Oscar’s attention would be occupied by Fletcher, with whom he was not on intimate terms, he thought he might spend the evening more profitably at home in study.

“If you’ll excuse me, Oscar,” he said, rising, “I will leave you now, as I have something to do this evening.”

“If you insist upon it, Harry, I will excuse you.  Come round Friday evening.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have to work at the printing office in the evening?” Fletcher deigned to inquire.

“No; I have some studying to do.”

“Reading and spelling, I suppose,” sneered Fletcher.

“I am studying French.”

“Indeed!” returned Fletcher, rather surprised.  “How can you study it without a teacher?”

“I have a teacher.”

“Who is it?”

“Professor Vincent,” said Harry, smiling.

“You didn’t know that I had developed into a French Professor, did you, Fitz?  Well, it’s so, and whether it’s the superior teaching or not, I can’t say, but my scholar is getting on famously.”