he children
were below him, and behind him was a row of visitors. He was paralyzed
with fear, but bursting with ambition. With one supreme effort he began
his speech:

Oh, the young Lochinvar has came out of the west!

He got no further; a shout from the big boys and a word from the
teacher, and he burst into tears and fled for refuge to his mother. How
the lines brought it all back! He could feel her arms about him now, and
her cheek against his, and hear again her words of comfort. In all the
years since she had been taken from him he had never wanted her so
insistently as during those few moments that Mr. Opp's high voice was
doing its worst for the long-suffering Lochinvar.

"Mr. D.," said a complaining voice from the doorway, "Miss Kippy won't
lemme tek her dress off to go to baid. She 'low she gwine sleep in hit."

Mr. Opp abruptly descended from his elocutionary flight, and asked to be
excused for a few moments.

"Just a little domestic friction," he assured Hinton; "you can glance
over the rest of the poems, and I'll be back soon."

Hinton, left alone, paced restlessly up and down the room. The temporary
diversion was over, and he was once more face to face with his problem.
He went to the table, and, taking a note from his pocket, bent over the
lamp to read it. The lines blurred and ran together, but a word here and
there recalled the contents. It was from Mr. Mathews, who preferred
writing disagreeable things to saying them. Mr. Mathews, the note said,
had been greatly annoyed recently by repeated errors in the reports of
his secretary; he was neither as rapid nor as accurate as formerly, and
an improvement would have to be made, or a change would be deemed
advisable.

"Delicate tact!" sneered Hinton, crushing the paper in his hand.
"Courtesy sometimes begets a request, and the shark shrinks from
conferring favors. And I've got to stick it out, to go on accepting
condescending disapproval until a 'change is deemed advisable.'"

He dropped his head on his arms, and so deep was he in his bitter
thoughts that he did not hear Mr. Opp come into the room. That gentleman
stood for a moment in great embarrassment; then he stepped noiselessly
out, and heralded his second coming by rattling the door-knob.

The wind had risen to a gale, and it shrieked about the old house and
tugged at the shutters and rattled the panes incessantly.

"You take the big chair," urged Mr. Opp, who had just put on a fresh log