Clemens, on his way back to the billiard-room, heard Mrs. Clemens call
him--she was ill that day: "Youth!"

"Yes, Livy." He went in for a word.

"George brought me Mr. B.'s card. I hope you were nice to him; the B's
were so nice to us, once, in Europe, while you were gone."

"The B's! Why, Livy!"

"Yes, of course; and I asked him to be sure to call when he came to
Hartford."

"Well, he's been here."

"Oh Youth, have you done anything?"

"Yes, of course I have. He seemed to have some pictures to sell, so I
sent him over to Warner's. I noticed he didn't take them with him. Land
sakes! Livy, what can I do?"

"Go right after him--go quick! Tell him what you have done."

He went without further delay, bareheaded and in his slippers, as usual.
Warner and B. were in cheerful conversation. They had met before.
Clemens entered gaily.

"Oh, yes, I see! You found him all right. Charlie, we met Mr. B. and
his wife in Europe, and they made things pleasant for us. I wanted to
come over here with him, but I was a good deal occupied just then. Livy
isn't very well, but she seems now a good deal better; so I just followed
along to have a good talk, all together."

He stayed an hour, and whatever bad impression had formed in B.'s mind
faded long before the hour ended. Returning home, Clemens noticed the
pictures still on the parlor floor.

"George," he said, "what pictures are these that gentleman left?"

"Why, Mr. Clemens, those are our own pictures! Mrs. Clemens had me set
them around to see how they would look in new places. The gentleman was
only looking at them while he waited for you to come down."

It was in June, 1888, that Yale College conferred upon Mark Twain the
degree of Master of Arts. He was proud of the honor, for it was
recognition of a kind that had not come to him before--remarkable
recognition, when we remember how as a child he had hated all schools and
study, having ended his class-room days before he was twelve years old.
He could not go to New Haven at the time, but later in the year made the
students a delightful address. In his capacity of Master of Arts, he
said, he had come down to New Haven to institute certain college reforms.

By advice, I turned my earliest attention to the Greek department. I
told the Greek Professor I had concluded to drop the use of the
Greek-written character, because it is so hard to spell with and so
impossible to read after you get it spelt. Let us draw the curta