ustin, Austin!"

"My dear, it is not my tongue that is in fault, I assure you," said my
father, speaking through his teeth; "and the man knows no more of my
tongue than he does of the Mysteries of Eleusis."

"Put it out then," exclaimed Squills; "and if it be not as I say, you
have my leave to go to London and throw your whole fortune into the two
great pits you have dug for it. Put it out!"

"Mr. Squills!" said my father, coloring,--"Mr. Squills, for shame!"

"Dear, dear, Austin! your hand is so hot; you are feverish, I am sure."

"Not a bit of it."

"But, sir, only just gratify Mr. Squills," said I, coaxingly.

"There, there!" said my father, fairly baited into submission, and shyly
exhibiting for a moment the extremest end of the vanquished organ of
eloquence.

Squills darted forward his lynx-like eyes. "Red as a lobster, and rough
as a gooseberry-bush!" cried Squills, in a tone of savage joy.

CHAPTER III.

How was it possible for one poor tongue, so reviled and persecuted, so
humbled, insulted, and triumphed over, to resist three tongues in league
against it?

Finally, my father yielded, and Squills; in high spirits, declared that
he would go to supper with me, to see that I ate nothing that would tend
to discredit his reliance on my system. Leaving my mother still with her
Austin, the good surgeon then took my arm, and as soon as we were in
the next room, shut the door carefully, wiped his forehead, and said: "I
think we have saved him!"

"Would it really, then, have injured my father so much?"

"So much? Why, you foolish young man, don't you see that with his
ignorance of business where he himself is concerned,--though for
any other one's business, neither Rollick nor Cool has a better
judgment,--and with his d--d Quixotic spirit of honor worked up into a
state of excitement, he would have rushed to Mr. Tibbets and exclaimed,
'How much do we owe you? There it is,' settled in the same way with
these printers, and come back without a sixpence; whereas you and I can
look coolly about us and reduce the inflammation to the minimum!"

"I see, and thank you heartily, Squills."

"Besides," said the surgeon, with more feeling, "your father has really
been making a noble effort over himself. He suffers more than you would
think,--not for himself (for I do believe that if he were alone in the
world, he would be quite contented if he could save fifty pounds a-year
and his books), but for your mother a