Randolph had expressed to his father in the morning an intention of calling upon Gilbert. His motive was not interest in our hero’s welfare, but curiosity to find out how he was situated, as indeed he freely acknowledged.

“I wouldn’t call if I were you, Randolph,” said his mother.

“Why not?” asked her husband.

“Gilbert will move in a different sphere,” said Mrs. Briggs, loftily. “I do not wish my son to form intimacies beneath him.”

“I don’t intend to,” said Randolph; “I want to see what sort of a place he is in.”

“He will be likely to presume upon your condescension, and boast of you as one of his friends.”

Mr. Briggs understood Gilbert better.

“No fear of that!” he said. “Gilbert is a boy 116of spirit. He is not one to seek or accept patronage. His pride is quite as great as Randolph’s.”

“What has he to be proud of, I should like to know,” said Mrs. Briggs, with a sneer.

“He is my ward,” said Mr. Briggs, stiffly, “and it is quite proper that my son should pay him some attention.”

“You seem to be infatuated about that boy,” said his wife coldly. “I suppose you will want him invited to Randolph’s birthday party next month.”

“I certainly shall,” said Mr. Briggs.

“This is going rather too far,” said his wife angrily.

“However that may be, he must be invited.”

“I should think I had some voice in that matter, Mr. Briggs.”

“Unless Gilbert Greyson is invited, there shall be no party at all,” said Mr. Briggs, with decision.

Mrs. Briggs felt that the fiat had gone forth. Her husband generally yielded to her, but sometimes he put his foot down, as the saying is, and was not to be moved. She felt very much annoyed, but Randolph offered her a way of yielding gracefully.

117“Oh, let the beggar come,” he said. “He will be good fun. I want to see how he will behave.”

“Since you wish it, Randolph,” said Mrs. Briggs, addressing herself pointedly to her son, “I will make no further objection. It is your party, and you ought to have your own way. But I shouldn’t think it was necessary for you to call on the boy. He is at some cheap boarding-house, I suppose.”

“Cheap, but perfectly respectable,” said Mr. Briggs.

“I want to see what a cheap boarding-house is like,” said Randolph; and his mother said no more.

At eight o’clock the servant brought up to Gilbert’s room a card bearing the name of Randolph Briggs.

“It’s a young gentleman that wants to see you,” she explained.

“I will go down and bring him up,” said Gilbert.

He hurried downstairs, and found Randolph waiting in the parlor.

“I am glad to see you, Randolph,” he said cordially; “will you stay here, or come up to my room?”

118“I would like to see your room,” said Randolph.

“It isn’t much to see,” said Gilbert; “but I shall be glad to have you come up.”

“It’s a long way down-town,” said Randolph.

“All the better for me. I am nearer my place of business.”

Gilbert’s room was on the third floor, back. He opened the door and invited Randolph in.

“What a small place!” exclaimed Randolph, looking around him.

“So it is,” said Gilbert; “but I make it do.”

“And the furniture is extremely common,” remarked his visitor, critically.

“That is true also,” said Gilbert, laughing.

“There does not seem to be much of it either; you have but one chair.”

“Take that, if you please, and I will sit on the bed.”

Randolph sat down, but not till he had examined the chair carefully to see if it was clean.

“I don’t see how you can live in such a place,” remarked the young aristocrat.

119“Oh, I easily accommodate myself to it,” said Gilbert; “but I hope soon to make a change for the better.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes; a young man in the house has a large room, which he has agreed to share with me as soon as his present room-mate leaves. That will probably be in a week. Then ............