Randolph had expressed to his father in the morning an intention of calling upon Gilbert. His motive was not interest in our hero’s welfare, but curiosity to find out how he was situated, as indeed he freely acknowledged.

“I wouldn’t call if I were you, Randolph,” said his mother.

“Why not?” asked her husband.

“Gilbert will move in a different sphere,” said Mrs. Briggs, loftily. “I do not wish my son to form intimacies beneath him.”

“I don’t intend to,” said Randolph; “I want to see what sort of a place he is in.”

“He will be likely to presume upon your condescension, and boast of you as one of his friends.”

Mr. Briggs understood Gilbert better.

“No fear of that!” he said. “Gilbert is a boy of spirit. He is not one to seek or accept patronage. His pride is quite as great as Randolph’s.”

“What has he to be proud of, I should like to know,” said Mrs. Briggs, with a sneer.

“He is my ward,” said Mr. Briggs, stiffly, “and it is quite proper that my son should pay him some attention.”

“You seem to be infatuated about that boy,” said his wife coldly. “I suppose you will want him invited to Randolph’s birthday party next month.”

“I certainly shall,” said Mr. Briggs.

“This is going rather too far,” said his wife angrily.

“However that may be, he must be invited.”

“I should think I had some voice in that matter, Mr. Briggs.”

“Unless Gilbert Greyson is invited, there shall be no party at all,” said Mr. Briggs, with decision.

Mrs. Briggs felt that the fiat had gone forth. Her husband generally yielded to her, but sometimes he put his foot down, as the saying is, and was not to be moved. She felt very much annoyed, but Randolph offered her a way of yielding gracefully.

“Oh, let the beggar come,” he said. “He will be good fun. I want to see how he will behave.”

“Since you wish it, Randolph,” said Mrs. Briggs, addressing herself pointedly to her son, “I will make no further objection. It is your party, and you ought to have your own way. But I shouldn’t think it was necessary for you to call on the boy. He is at some cheap boarding-house, I suppose.”

“Cheap, but perfectly respectable,” said Mr. Briggs.

“I want to see what a cheap boarding-house is like,” said Randolph; and his mother said no more.

At eight o’clock the servant brought up to Gilbert’s room a card bearing the name of Randolph Briggs.

“It’s a young gentleman that wants to see you,” she explained.

“I will go down and bring him up,” said Gilbert.

He hurried downstairs, and found Randolph waiting in the parlor.

“I am glad to see you, Randolph,” he said cordially; “will you stay here, or come up to my room?”

“I would like to see your room,” said Randolph.

“It isn’t much to see,” said Gilbert; “but I shall be glad to have you come up.”

“It’s a long way down-town,” said Randolph.

“All the better for me. I am nearer my place of business.”

Gilbert’s room was on the third floor, back. He opened the door and invited Randolph in.

“What a small place!” exclaimed Randolph, looking around him.

“So it is,” said Gilbert; “but I make it do.”

“And the furniture is extremely common,” remarked his visitor, critically.

“That is true also,” said Gilbert, laughing.

“There does not seem to be much of it either; you have but one chair.”

“Take that, if you please, and I will sit on the bed.”

Randolph sat down, but not till he had examined the chair carefully to see if it was clean.

“I don’t see how you can live in such a place,” remarked the young aristocrat.

“Oh, I easily accommodate myself to it,” said Gilbert; “but I hope soon to make a change for the better.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes; a young man in the house has a large room, which he has agreed to share with me as soon as his present room-mate leaves. That will probably be in a week. Then I can offer you a better reception.”

“What is the young man’s name?”

“Ingalls. I believe he comes from Massachusetts.”

“Is he in business?”

“Yes; he is in a stationery store on William Street. Of course, he is a new acquaintance, but I think we shall get on well together.”

“What sort of boarders have you here?” asked Randolph, curiously.

“Rather a miscellaneous class. The gentlemen are chiefly in business. There is one public school-teacher—a lady.”

“Of course, there is nobody that moves in good society?”

“I really don’t know.”

“How much board do you pay?”

“Six dollars.”

“Six dollars!” repeated Randolph, turning up his nose.

“Some of the boarders pay considerably more, but my room, as you see, is small, and that makes it low for me.”

“What sort of a table have you?”

“Plain, but as good as could be expected. Of course it don’t compare with yours.”

“I should say not.”

“But I find no fault with it. Everything is served neatly, and that is what I care most about.”

At this point Mr. Ingalls knocked at the door.

“Excuse me,” he said, when he saw Randolph; “I didn’t know you had company.”

“Come in,” said Gilbert; “or rather, if your room-mate is out, let us adjourn to your room. We shall be more comfortable.”

“Certainly; I shall be glad to have you.”

“Mr. Randolph Briggs, Mr. Ingalls,” said Gilbert, by way of introduction.

“I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Briggs,” said the young man.

Randolph bowed condescendingly.

They went at once to the larger room.

“This is much better,” said Randolph, who seemed surprised to see a sofa.

“Yes, I shall consider myself promoted when I get here.”

“Are you in business, Mr. Briggs?” asked Mr. Ingalls.

“Oh, no, I am preparing for college,” said Randolph; “there is no need of my going into business.”

“I wish I could have gone to college,” said Gilbert, regretfully.

“It takes money to go to college,” said Randolph, complacently; “I intend to live in style when I go there.”

“I am afraid, Gilbert,” said young Ingalls, “we must put off going till our wages are raised.”

“I must put it off forever,” said Gilbert.

“I have hopes of getting ready when I am fifty,” said the young man; “perhaps Mr. Briggs will be a professor at that time.”

“I wouldn’t teach,” said Randolph, “though it is very respectable to be a professor. I shall be a man of fortune.”

Mr. Ingalls glanced quietly at Gilbert. He was evidently amused by the self-importance of the young aristocrat.

“Do you like your place, Gilbert?” asked Randolph.

“Pretty well.”

“You haven’t got any ice-water here, have you?”

“I will go down and order some.”

While Gilbert was gone, Randolph said, “I am glad Gilbert has got a place, for he is poor and needs it. My father has done a great deal for him; but then he can afford it, for he is a rich man. I have no friends in this neighborhood; but I thought I would come down to see how he was getting along.”

“Gilbert ought to be very grateful,” said Mr. Ingalls, dryly.

“I think so, too. It is not every poor boy who has a rich man to help him.”

Here Gilbert re-entered with the water, and shortly after Randolph left.

“What do you think of him, Mr. Ingalls?” asked Gilbert.

“He seems to think a good deal of himself,” said the young man. “He referred to you in a very patronizing way.”

Gilbert laughed.

“His mother has spoiled him,” he said; “she is the most disagreeable woman I ever saw. If Randolph had been brought up differently, he might not show so much foolish pride. I like his father best of the three.”

Gilbert little suspected that the man whom he praised had been, thus far in life, his worst enemy.