particularly. When Guy learned that I was staying here, he proposed
to call and make your acquaintance."

"I hope you didn't encourage him," said Walter, with a grimace.

"No; I told him that we were generally out in the afternoon."

"That is right."

"I suppose you have been hard at work, Walter?"

"Ask Mr. Crabb."

"Walter has done very well," said the usher. "If he will continue to
study as well, I shall have no fault to find."

"If I do, will you qualify me to be a professor in twelve months' time?"

"I hope not, for in that case I should lose my scholar, and have to bow
to his superior knowledge."

"Then you don't know everything, Mr. Crabb?"

"Far from it! I hope your father didn't engage me in any such illusion."

"Because," said Walter, "I had one teacher who pretended to know all
there was worth knowing. I remember how annoyed he was once when I
caught him in a mistake in geography."

"I shall not be annoyed at all when you find me out in a mistake, for I
don't pretend to be very learned."

"Then I think we'll get along," said Walter, favorably impressed by the
usher's modesty.

"I suppose if I didn't know anything we should get along even better,"
said Mr. Crabb, amused.

"Well, perhaps that might be carrying things too far!" Walter admitted.

In the afternoon Hector and Walter spent two hours at the gymnasium in
Twenty-eighth Street, and walked leisurely home after a healthful amount
of exercise.

For some reason, which he could not himself explain, Hector said nothing
to Walter about his rescue of the little girl on Madison Avenue, though
he heard of it at the gymnasium.

One of the boys, Henry Carroll, said to Walter: "There was a little girl
came near being run over on Madison Avenue this noon!"

"Did you see it?"

"No, but I heard of it."

"Who was the little girl?"

"Grace Newman."

"I know who she is. How did it happen?"

The boy gave a pretty correct account.

"Some boy saved her," he concluded, "by running forward and hauling her
out of the road just in time. He ran the risk of being run over himself.
Mr. Newman thinks everything of little Grace. I'd like to be in that
boy's shoes."

Neither of the boys noticed that Hector's face was flushed, as he
listened to the account of his own exploit.

The next morning, among the letters laid upon the breakfast table was
one for Hector Roscoe.

"A letter for you, Hector," said Mr. Ross, examining the envelope in
some surpri