ptorily shortened it to "Tus"; then, adding it to the
father's appellation, it became "Tailorkin-Fekli-Tus." The first word of
this lengthy and awkward combination was soon dropped off, and the
other two were combined into one word and became Feklitus. With this
the critics were satisfied, and long usage fixed the name so completely
on the boy that at last very few recalled the fine name Fortunatus, and
almost every one supposed that he had been christened Feklitus.

Oscar Stein and Feklitus Bickel both sat at the head of the sixth class
in the village school. This odd arrangement came about in this way.
When, six years before, both entered the school together, Oscar seated
himself at once at the head of the bench; for he was a boy born to lead,
and never thought of being second anywhere. But Feklitus came and stood
in front of him, saying "That is my place"; for his father had told him
that the first place was no more than his right. Oscar would not yield,
and the case came before the teacher, who, finding that Oscar was the
senior by two days, decided in his favor. Feklitus, however, was not to
be put down so; he would not sit below Oscar, so he took the first place
on the next bench, and, as the class was so large a one as to occupy
both benches, the teacher allowed the affair to be settled so, and so it
had continued ever since. And thus both boys were first.

Oscar was well pleased with this arrangement, because it brought next
him a boy whom he much preferred to Feklitus; Fani, the son of Heiri,
the day-laborer. Fani was a lively and courageous fellow, who was always
ready to join Oscar in any undertaking he might have in view, no matter
how bold it might be. Oscar even thought Fani far better looking than
the broad-shouldered Feklitus; who, in his fine cloth suit with the high
collar that made his short neck look as if it was no neck at all, was
boxed up so stiff and tight that he could hardly move; while Fani was
slender and nimble as a lizard, and, though he wore all summer long
nothing more than a shirt and linen trousers, yet he looked so slight
and so graceful that no one noticed how sparely he was clad. When with
both hands he tossed his long dark brown locks back from his forehead,
and looked about with great shining expectant eyes, then instantly some
new plan of comradeship darted into Oscar's busy brain; some new play in
which Fani would be of use, either in the role of Artist, or Noble
Bandit, or Trage