upon me. I object to thanks. All that I require from you are
habits of industry, punctuality, and respect. Your father speaks well of
you, and I have no doubt I shall find you all that he represents. Can I
do anything more for you this morning?"

I hesitated; could not bring myself to utter one word of that which I
had come to say; and murmured--

"Nothing more, I thank you, sir."

He looked at me piercingly, paused an instant, and then rang the bell.

"I am about to order my carriage," he said; "and, as I am going in that
direction, I will take you as far as the Hotel Dieu."

"But--but I have a cab at the door," I faltered, remembering, with a
sinking heart, that I had not a sou to pay the driver.

The servant appeared again.

"Let the carriage be brought round immediately, and dismiss this
gentleman's cab."

The man retired, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The doctor bent low over
the papers on his desk, and I fancied for the moment that a faint smile
flitted over his face. Then he took up his hat, and pointed to the door.

"Now, my young friend," he said authoritatively, "we must be gone. Time
is gold. After you."

I bowed and preceded him. His very courtesy was sterner than the
displeasure of another, and I already felt towards him a greater degree
of awe than I should have quite cared to confess. The carriage was
waiting in the courtyard. I placed myself with my back to the horses;
Dr. Cheron flung himself upon the opposite seat; a servant out of livery
sprang up beside the coachman; the great gates were flung open; and we
glided away on the easiest of springs and the softest of cushions.

Dr. Cheron took a newspaper from his pocket, and began to read; so
leaving me to my own uncomfortable reflections.

And, indeed, when I came to consider my position I was almost in
despair. Moneyless, what was to become of me? Watchless and moneyless,
with a bill awaiting me at my hotel, and not a stiver in my pocket
wherewith to pay it.... Miserable pupil of a stern master! luckless son
of a savage father! to whom could I turn for help? Not certainly to Dr.
Cheron, whom I had been ready to accuse, half an hour ago, of having
stolen my watch and purse. Petty larceny and Dr. Cheron! how ludicrously
incongruous! And yet, where was my property? Was the Hotel des
Messageries a den of thieves? And again, how was it that this same Dr.
Cheron looked, and spoke, and acted, as if he had never seen me in his
life till this mo