"Good gracious!" Uncle Julius interrupted, "what's come over the boy? 'Miss,' indeed! Didn't I tell you that this is my old godmother's own daughter's stepdaughter? 'Miss!' Her name is Nette." "Ah," said Antony. "And his," continued Uncle Julius, with a flip of his finger at his nephew and a wink at the young lady, "is Tony. Let's have no formality among chicks of your age. No, no; Tony's his name." "Indeed!" the young lady observed, gazing critically at the embarrassed possessor of the cognomen, "and a quaint little name, I am sure." She smiled with a perfunctory brightness and continued in some inexplicable manner to look down at her escort--though had she been presented with ten thousand dollars for every one of the inches over five feet in her height she would not have appeared before the world as any considerable heiress. The object of this remarkably achieved envisagement writhed inwardly. Uncle Julius rubbed his hands in maudlin delight at her appreciation of his nephew's baptismal acquirements, and she continued, prettily stifling a second yawn between her white little pointed teeth: "Since our young friend naturally pants to show us the beauties of his Alma Mater, let us by all means begin with them," _and get them over_, said the strangled yawn. Antony bit his tongue in his seething rage and the pain turned him crimson and wet-eyed. This did not escape the intolerable chit and her deep-set violet eyes twinkled maliciously. "It will not be at all necessary to see"--he began, when Uncle Julius's round, astonished eyes interrupted them. "He is not going to show 'us' at all," explained this worthy but misguided man, "he is going to show you, my dear. I knew all these sights well forty years ago. Dear, dear! yes, indeed." Antony could have choked him for the apprehension that passed over his young charge's face. "You will not desert me, Mr. Julius?" she cried with a melting glance that visibly warmed the cockles of his infatuated old heart, "you can't mean to leave me"--_to the awkward attentions of this red faced boy!_ her eyebrows continued the appeal, intelligible only to Antony. "But that's just what I do mean, Miss Nette," he assured her, winking incredibly, "I am this moment due at my trustees' meeting. I'm off directly. You must"--and he flapped his hand with airy abandon--"endure the time without me!" Here he smiled with disgusting coquetry and pattered like a plump white rabbit down the shady brick path. As they stared blankly after him he turned and waved his stick at them. "Oh, I'm no spoil-sport!" he crowed, and rounded his corner. They were left alone. "Silly old ass!" Antony muttered, and then glared angrily at the spot the buxom gentleman had quitted. "I beg your pardon?" said the young lady, "did you speak?" "Not to you," he replied briefly. She shook out a fluffy white parasol and under its becoming shadow looked curiously about her. "Indeed--to whom, then," she inquired. Antony was silent.