Fitz was elaborately dressed, feeling that handsome clothes would
help convey the impression of wealth, which he was anxious to
establish. In particular he paid attention to his neckties, of which
he boasted a greater variety than any of his school-mates. It was
not a lofty ambition, but, such as it was, he was able to gratify it.
"How are you, Fitz?" said Oscar, when he saw who was his visitor.
"Draw up a chair to the fire, and make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you, Oscar," said Fitzgerald, leisurely drawing off a pair of
kid gloves; "I thought I would drop in and see you."
"All right! Will you have some popped corn?"
"No, thank you," answered Fitzgerald, shrugging his shoulders. "I
don't fancy the article."
"Don't you? Then you don't know what's good."
"Fancy passing round popped corn at a party in Boston," said the
other. "How people would stare!"
"Would they? I don't know about that. I think some would be more
sensible and eat. But, I beg your pardon, I haven't introduced you
to my friend, Harry Walton. Harry, this is a classmate of mine.
Fitzgerald Fletcher, Esq., of Boston."
Fitzgerald did not appear to perceive that the title Esq. was
sportively added to his name. He took it seriously, and was pleased
with it, as a recognition of his social superiority. He bowed
ceremoniously to our hero, and said, formally, "I am pleased to make
your acquaintance, Mr.
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