"
"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.
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