e you would, Oscar. There's nothing of the snob about you."

"I hope not."

"Yet your family stands as high as Fletcher's."

"That's a point I leave to others to discuss," said Oscar. "My
father is universally respected, I am sure, but he rose from the
ranks. He was once a printer's devil, like my friend Harry Walton.
Wouldn't it be ridiculous in me to turn up my nose at Walton, just
because be stands now where my father did thirty years ago? It would
be the same thing as sneering at father."

"Give us your hand, Oscar," said Henry Fairbanks. "You've got no
nonsense about you--I like you."

"I'm not sure whether your compliment is deserved, Henry," said
Oscar, "but if I have any nonsense it isn't of that kind."

"Do you believe Fitz has any suspicion that he has a cousin in the
tin business?"

"No; I don't believe he has. He must know he has poor relations,
living in the country, but he probably thinks as little as possible
about them. As long as they don't intrude themselves upon his
greatness, I suppose he is satisfied."

"And as long as no one suspects that he has any connection with such
plebeians."

"Of course."

"What sort of a man is this tin-pedler, Tom?" asked Oscar.

"He's a pretty sharp fellow--not educated, or polished, you know, but
he seems to have some sensible ideas. He said he had never seen the
Fletchers; because he didn't want to poke his nose in where he wasn't
wanted. He showed his good sense also by saying that he had rather
have me for a cousin than Fitz."

"That isn't a very high compliment--I'd say the same myself."

"Thank you, Oscar. Your compliment exalts me. You won't mind my
strutting a little."

And Tom humorously threw back his head, and strutted about with mock
pride.

"To be sure," said Oscar, "you don't belong to one of the first
families of Boston, like our friend, Fitz."

"No, I belong to one of the second families. You can't blame me, for
I can't help it."

"No, I won't blame you, but of course I consider you low."

"I am afraid, Tom, I haven't got any cousins in the tin trade, like
Fitz."

"Poor Fitz! he little dreams of his impending trial. If he did, I am
afraid he wouldn't sleep a wink to-night."

"I wish I thought as much of myself as Fitz does," said Henry
Fairbanks. "You can see by his dignified pace, and the way he tosses
his head, how well satisfied he is with being Fitzgerald Fletcher,
Esq."

"I'll bet five cents he won't strut r