place there was a scar. When he saw me he walked slowly toward the pavilion.
At command of the professor we sat in silence and regarded him, after the manner of stern senators of Rome. William was abashed and confused, threw a ragged cap upon the table, and, with a sigh, sank down upon a chair, and stretched his legs out. Then he took an estimating side glance at us. Our silence evidently disturbed him. He pulled the chair nearer to the table, sighed, blushed and crossed and recrossed his legs.
At length the uncle regarded him sternly and said:
“It seems you are capable of traveling about in the world alone—” The nephew observed that beneath the sternness there was a twinkle of humor.
“Oh yes—very capable. I have had a dozen first class adventures. But one thing I forgot all about—and that was money. As I sit here you could not find a single coin upon me. That is the reason, dear Uncle, that I have returned to the yoke of your tyranny, in case you are disposed to fill my pockets again.”
“Very good,” replied the uncle, laughing. “But tell—were you a fool when you wrote this letter?”
