ght not to lose
a moment."

"Humph!" said the Uncle. "You might better have thought of that before
you fell."

"What time is it, if you please?" asked the Back anxiously.

"Twenty minutes of eleven," replied the Uncle.

"Oh, dear," sighed the Back, "only hard running would do it now. I left
my sketch at home this morning, I took up another by mistake; it is to
try for the prize sketch, and the Master said, if I would get it into
the studio by eleven he would accept it, but he couldn't later, because
the rule is, any coming after that hour can't compete. I've worked so
hard at it, and I thought I had a good chance--oh, dear!"

"Let me see," considered the Uncle, turning to the Boy; "you stopped
with yours this morning and we saw a number there. Yours was undoubtedly
very good. Now open your portfolio and let me see yours," he added to
the Back.

The Back hesitated, glanced at the Button Boy, then yielded.

"Humph!" observed the Uncle, and put on his glasses. "Well, I declare,
whom have we here? 'The Arrogant Page'; eh? well, I declare; look at
this, nephew--here you are with your buttons and your most scornful
expression--disdaining to pick up the little Prince's hat! Where did you
learn to draw like this, you rascal?"

"I had plenty of chances with the model," said the Back slyly; then he
sighed. "If I had got the prize I would have been sent to the Academy; I
can't go without. And I'm sure it is very original!"

"Tie up your portfolio, quick!" said the Button Boy. His face was
working. His eyes shone! They outshone his buttons seven dozen times.

"What are you going to do, you foolish fellow," cried the Uncle, "run
with it? It will take the prize from under your very nose and make a
show of you, too."

"Will you trust me?" asked the Button Boy of the Back, not minding his
Uncle. "You know I've often said I owed you one, but I don't mean it."

"O Buttons!" cried the Back, "will you? will you really do it?"

"There, Uncle," cried the Button Boy stripping off his jacket, "I can't
run in that tight thing. And if you choose to count this, you may. I
give up the money, sir."

In vain the Uncle shouted after him, "You young rascal! I'll be done
with you; what an exhibition you'll make now;" away he ran, fleet as a
deer. Then the Uncle clapped his hands vociferously, burst out with--"I
_knew_ there was something in that lad!" chuckled till he was purple in
the face, and finally sat down by the Back and blew hi