give away his brilliant inside information,
drawn from the _Hints and Helps_ book, and be rivalled in the glory of
his manners and bearing? Why should he not pass on alone, perfectly
composed, and reap the field of glory unsupported? His knees gave way
and he sat down without intending it.

"Don't you tell anybody and I'll put you on to exactly what grown-up
gentlemen say and do when they go calling on the girls," he began.

"Fire away," retorted Ross, gloomily. "Nobody will find out from me.
Dead men tell no tales. If I'm fool enough to go, I don't expect to
come out of it alive."

Abner rose, white and shaking, and thrusting three fingers into the
buttoning of his vest, extending the other hand like an orator,
proceeded to instruct the freckled, perspiring disciple at his feet.

"'Hang your hat on the rack, or give it to a servant.'" Ross nodded
intelligently. He could do that.

"'Let your legs be gracefully disposed, one hand on the knee, the
other--'"

Abner came to an unhappy pause. "I forget what a fellow does with the
other hand. Might stick it in your pocket, loudly, or expectorate on
the carpet. Indulge in little frivolity. Let a rich stream of
conversation flow.'"

Ross mentally dug within himself for sources of rich streams of
conversation. He found a dry soil. "What you goin' to talk about?" he
demanded, fretfully. "I won't go a step farther till I know what I'm
goin' to say when I get there."

Abner began to repeat paragraphs from _Hints and Helps_. "'It is best
to remark,'" he opened, in an unnatural voice, "'How well you are
looking!' although fulsome compliments should be avoided. When seated
ask the young lady who her favorite composer is.'"

"What's a composer?" inquired Ross, with visions of soothing-syrup in
his mind.

"A man that makes up music. Don't butt in that way; you put me all
out--'composer is. Name yours. Ask her what piece of music she likes
best. Name yours. If the lady is musical, here ask her to play or
sing.'"

This chanted recitation seemed to have a hypnotic effect on the
freckled boy; his big pupils contracted each time Abner came to the
repetend, "Name yours."

"I'm tired already," he grumbled; but some spell made him rise and
fare farther.

When they had entered the Claiborne gate, they leaned toward each
other like young saplings weakened at the root and locking branches to
keep what shallow foothold on earth remained.

"You're goin' in first," asserted Ross,