“How are you, Fitz?” said Oscar, who was in the secret, and guessed the errand on which he came.

“Very well, thank you, Oscar,” answered Fletcher, in a stately manner.

“Anything new with you?” asked Oscar, carelessly.

“Not much,” said Fletcher.  “There’s a note I just received.

“Whew!” exclaimed Oscar, in affected astonishment.  “Are you going to accept?”

“I suppose I ought to oblige them,” said Fletcher.  “It won’t be much trouble to me, you know.”

“To be sure; it’s in a good cause.  But how did they hear of your reading?”

“Oh, there are no secrets in a small village like this,” said Fletcher.

“It’s certainly a great compliment.  Has anybody else been invited to read?”

“I think not,” said Fletcher, proudly.  “They rely upon me.”

“Couldn’t you get a chance for me?  It would be quite an honor, and I should like it for the sake of the family.”

“I shouldn’t feel at liberty to interfere with their arrangements,” said Fletcher, who didn’t wish to share the glory with any one.  “Besides, you don’t read well enough.”

“Well, I suppose I must give it up,” said Oscar, in a tone of resignation.  “By the way, what have you decided to read?”

“I haven’t quite made up my mind,” said Fletcher, in a tone of importance.  “I have only just received the invitation, you know.”

“Haven’t you answered it yet?”

“No; but I shall as soon as I go home.  Good-night, Oscar.”

“Good-night, Fitz.”

“How mad Fitz will be when he finds he has been sold!” said Oscar to himself.  “But he deserves it for treating Harry so meanly.”

CHAPTER XXIV.

READING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

On reaching home, Fletcher looked over his “Speaker,” and selected three poems which he thought he could read with best effect.  The selection made, he sat down to his desk, and wrote a reply to the invitation, as follows:—­

“MISS PAULINE CLINTON:  I hasten to acknowledge your polite invitation to occupy twenty minutes in reading choice selections at your approaching Fair.  I have paid much attention to reading, and hope to be able to give pleasure to the large numbers who will doubtless honor the occasion with their presence.  I have selected three poems,—­Poe’s Raven, the Battle of Ivry, by Macaulay, and Marco Bozarris, by Halleck.  I shall be much pleased if my humble efforts add eclat to the occasion.

  “Yours, very respectfully,
    “FITZGERALD FLETCHER.”

“There,” said Fletcher, reading his letter through with satisfaction.  “I think that will do.  It is high-toned and dignified, and shows that I am highly cultured and refined.  I will copy it off, and mail it.”

Fletcher saw his letter deposited in the post-office, and returned to his room.

“I ought to practise reading these poems, so as to do it up handsomely,” he said.  “I suppose I shall get a good notice in the ‘Gazette.’  If I do, I will buy a dozen papers, and send to my friends.  They will see that I am a person of consequence in Centreville, even if I didn’t get elected to any office in the high and mighty Clionian Society.”