My dear Beau, you ought to have crawled under the box."
"Nonsense!" protested Dan, "it's no concern of his." He turned his flushed
boyish face angrily away.
Champe looked at him steadily with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, I hope
your independence will come buttered," he remarked. "I doubt if you will
find the taste of dry bread to your liking. By the way, do you intend to
enter Jack Hicks's household?"
"For a fortnight, perhaps. I've written to Judge Compton, and if he'll take
me into his office, I shall study law."
Champe gave a long whistle. "I should have supposed that your taste would
be for tailoring," he observed, "your genius for the fashions is immense."
"I hope to cultivate that also," said Dan, smiling, as he glanced at his
coat.
"What? on bread and cheese and Blackstone?"
"Oh, Blackstone! I never heard he wasn't a well-dressed old chap."
"At least you'll take half my allowance?"
Dan shook his head. "Not a cent--not a copper cent."
"But how will you live, man?"
"Oh, somehow," he laughed carelessly. "I'll live somehow."
"It's rather a shame, you know," responded Champe, "but there's one thing
of which I am very sure--the old gentleman will come round. We'll make him
do it, Aunt Molly and I--and Betty."
Dan started.
"Betty sent you a message, by the way," pursued Champe, looking through the
window. "It was something about coming home; she says you are to come home
now--or when you will.
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