“I shan’t have to work for a living,” said Oscar, in a tone of importance.

“Because your family is rich, I suppose,” said Herbert.

“Yes, we’ve got a large estate, ever so many acres.  That’s what mother’s got.  Then grandpa is rich besides, and I expect he will leave me a good deal of his money.  He’s pretty old, and I don’t believe he’ll live very long.”

Oscar said this with such evident satisfaction that Herbert was disgusted, thinking it not very creditable to him to speculate so complacently upon his grandfather’s speedy death.

“You seem to be well off, then,” said he, at last, to the boy.

“Yes,” said Oscar, “our family is one of the first in the State.  My father is a Peyton.”

“Is he?” asked Herbert, not appearing as much awestruck as Oscar expected.

“We’ve got a plantation in Virginia.  We live there part of the year.  My father’s there now.  I hope we shall go there soon.”

“Do you like it better than here?”

“Yes, a good deal.”

“This is a handsome place.”

“Yes, this is mother’s estate.  The other belongs to father.”

“Have you any brothers and sisters, Oscar?”

“I’ve got one sister.  She’s about twelve.  But, I say, I thought you were a gentleman’s son when I first saw you.”

“So I am,” said Herbert, emphatically.

“Was your father rich?”

“No.”

“Did he have to work for a living?”

“Yes.”

“Then he wasn’t a gentleman,” said Oscar, decidedly.

“Isn’t anybody a gentleman that has to work for a living?” asked Herbert, his indignation excited by his companion’s assumption of superiority.

“Of course not,” said Oscar, coolly.  “It isn’t respectable to work.  Niggers and servants work.”

“That is where I don’t agree with you,” said Herbert, his face flushing.

“You don’t pretend to be a gentleman, do you?” demanded Oscar, insolently.

“Yes, I do,” said Herbert, firmly.

“But you’re not one, you know.”

“I don’t know anything of the kind,” said Herbert, angrily.  “I suppose you call yourself one.”

“Of course, I am a gentleman,” said Oscar, complacently.

“You don’t talk like one, at any rate,” retorted Herbert.

This was new language for Oscar to hear.  He had been accustomed to have his own way pretty much, and had been used to order round his father’s servants and slaves like a little despot.  The idea of being told by a boy who had to work for a living that he did not talk like a gentleman, did not suit him at all.  His black eyes flashed and he clenched his fists.

“Do you mean to insult me?” he demanded.

“I never insult anybody,” said Herbert, not feeling particularly alarmed by this hostile demonstration.  “It is you that have insulted me.”

“Didn’t you tell me I was not a gentleman?” said Oscar, hotly.