Fred Vivian had not been informed of the plan which his father had in view for him. Mr. Vivian, however, felt confident that it would be agreeable to his son, and did not wish to speak of it until he had ascertained Gilbert’s willingness.

At dinner, after the interview described in the last chapter, Mr. Vivian for the first time mentioned the matter.

“What lessons have you to-night, Fred?” he asked.

“I have my Latin, and some hard sums in Reduction.”

“How are you getting on in Latin?”

“I wish you would let me give it up, father,” said Fred, earnestly. “I believe it was only got up to trouble school-boys.”

291“I suppose,” said his father, smiling, “you think C?sar, Virgil, and Cicero only wrote with the same purpose.”

“Confound them! Why couldn’t they write in English?” said Fred, petulantly.

All at the table laughed, and finally Fred himself joined in.

“I suspect the Roman boys would have found as much trouble with English as you find with Latin,” said Mr. Vivian. “As a fact, there was no such language in existence then as our modern English tongue.”

“I wish Latin were as easy as English,” said Fred.

“No doubt it is. Foreigners find our language very difficult.”

“Difficult! I don’t see what there is difficult about it.”

“Because it is your native language. Roman boys would have been equally surprised at any one finding Latin difficult.”

292“I wish I was a Roman boy, then. Laura, will you help me about my sums?”

“I have got my own lessons to prepare, Fred.”

“Will you help me, father?”

“I like to have my evenings to myself, Fred. However, don’t look disappointed. You shall have help.”

“Who will help me? Laura says she can’t.”

“I have engaged a professor to come here every evening, and assist you about your lessons.”

“A professor!” exclaimed Fred, uneasily. “That will be as bad as being at an evening school. I would rather get along by myself.”

“Just now you wanted help,” said his father.

“I don’t want a professor. He will make me work too hard.”

“I think you will like him,” said Mr. Vivian.

“When is he coming?”

“This evening. He will be here about eight o’clock.”

“Isn’t this a new plan?” asked Mrs. Vivian.

293“Don’t you approve of it, my dear?” asked her husband.

“I thought his presence might be a restraint upon us, unless, indeed, Fred goes upstairs with him.”

“No, let me stay here,” urged Fred. “I don’t want to go off with that old man.”

“How do you know he is an old man?” inquired his father, smiling.

“I suppose he is.”

“He can’t be considered so. In fact, he is rather young.”

“It’s all the same,” said Fred, discontentedly. “I suppose he is as stiff as a poker.”

“He did not impress me so. With his help you will get through your lessons quickly; and then you can have the rest of the evening to yourself.”

“What is his name?” asked Laura.

“I will see if I can find his card,” said Mr. Vivian, pretending to search his pockets in vain. “Never mind, I will ask him when he comes.”

“You did not tell me you thought of making this arrangement for Fred,” said Mrs. Vivian.

294“I see,” said her husband, smiling, “that you are a little in doubt as to its expediency. If at the end of a week it appears unsatisfactory I will dismiss the professor.”

Fred was relieved by this promise. He had already formed in his own mind an image of the expected teacher,—a tall, thin man, in a rusty-black suit, wearing a pair of iron-bowed spectacles. He had seen the tutor of a schoolmate of his who answered this description, and hastily adopted the conclusion that most visiting tutors were like him.

At ten minutes of eight Gilbert Greyson was announced.

“O Gilbert, I’m so glad to see you,” said Fred; “though I’m afraid I can’t be with you much this evening.”

“Why not?” asked Gilbert.

“Father has engaged a professor to assist me in my studies; when you came in I thought at first it was he.”

Gilbert read the joke in Mr. Vivian’s smiling face, and determined to keep it up.

295“What sort of a teacher is he?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose he’s an old fogy in spectacles.”

“Don’t you think you shall like him?”

“Father says if I don’t he’ll send him off at the end of the week.”

Again Gilbert smiled, and Mr. Vivian laughed outright.

“I don’t see what you two are laughing about,” said Fred.

“It’s a good joke, Gilbert, isn’t it?” said the merchant.

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t see any joke,” said Fred.

“Nor I,” said ............