At table Harry sat between Maud and Oscar.  If at first he felt a little bashful, the feeling soon wore away.  The dinner hour passed very pleasantly.  Mr. Vincent chatted very agreeably about men and things.  There is no one better qualified to shine in this kind of conversation than the editor of a city daily, who is compelled to be exceptionally well informed.  Harry listened with such interest that he almost forgot to eat, till Oscar charged him with want of appetite.

“I must leave in haste,” said Mr. Vincent, when dinner was over.  “Oscar, I take it for granted that you will take care of your friend.”

“Certainly, father.  I shall look upon myself as his guardian, adviser and friend.”

“You are not very well fitted to be a mentor, Oscar,” said Maud.

“Why not, young lady?”

“You need a guardian yourself.  You are young and frivolous.”

“And you, I suppose, are old and judicious.”

“Thank you.  I will own to the last, and the first will come in time.”

“Isn’t it singular, Harry, that my sister should have so much conceit, whereas I am remarkably modest?”

“I never discovered it, Oscar,” said Harry, smiling.

“That is right, Mr. Walton,” said Maud.  “I see you are on my side.  Look after my brother, Mr. Walton.  He needs an experienced friend.”

“I am afraid I don’t answer the description, Miss Maud.”

“I don’t doubt you will prove competent.  I wish you a pleasant walk.”

“My sister’s a jolly girl, don’t you think so?” asked Oscar, as Maud left the room.

“That isn’t exactly what I should say of her, but I can describe her as even more attractive than her brother.”

“You couldn’t pay her a higher compliment.  But come; we’ll take a walk on the Common.”

They were soon on the Common, dear to every Bostonian, and sauntered along the walks, under the pleasant shade of the stately elms.

“Look there,” said Oscar, suddenly; “isn’t that Fitz Fletcher?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “but he doesn’t see us.”

“We’ll join him.  How are you, Fitz?”

“Glad to see you, Oscar,” said Fletcher, extending a gloved band, while in the other he tossed a light cane.  “When did you arrive?”

“Only this morning; but you don’t see Harry Walton.”

Fletcher arched his brows in surprise, and said coldly, “Indeed, I was not aware Mr. Walton was in the city.”

“He is visiting me,” said Oscar.

Fletcher looked surprised.  He knew the Vincents stood high socially, and it seemed extraordinary that they should receive a printer’s devil as a guest.

“Have you given up the printing business?” he asked superciliously.

“No; I only have a little vacation from it.”

“Ah, indeed!  It’s a very dirty business.  I would as soon be a chimney-sweep.”

“Each to his taste, Fitz,” said Oscar.  “If you have a taste for chimneys, I hope your father won’t interfere.”