"Then I think you and I ought to know each other," Mr. Willis remarked cordially, holding out his hand; "I believe I have met all the other members of your family. My name is John Willis." "I thought so," Gilbert exclaimed. He could not refuse to grasp the extended hand, though his one idea was to get away as soon as possible. "I hope you are better?" he inquired awkwardly. "Oh, much better, thank you. Are you in a hurry? Will you not sit down and talk to me for a bit?" "Well—if you like." It was scarcely a gracious answer. Gilbert seated himself a few steps away from his companion, and rested his crutches by his side; his self-consciousness made him nervous, so that he clumsily allowed one crutch to slip, and crimsoned with vexation as he stooped to pick it up. "I can't go far without my props," he said, with the bitter intonation in his voice which it always pained his mother to hear. "So I understand," Mr. Willis replied in matter-of-fact tones. Being a tactful man and a keen judge of character, he deemed it best not to enlarge upon the other's lameness, or show the sympathy he felt; but calmly changed the conversation by saying, "I have now come from the town, and whilst I was making a few purchases from Mr. Higgs, the stationer, asked him some questions about the Grammar School— I mean, my boy to go there after Easter—and he told me you and his son have been rivals this term." "Yes. Higgs and I both wanted to win the form-prize." "And you won it, I understand! I congratulate you." "Thank you. I thought Higgs would be mad—I know I should have been in his place—but he wasn't a bit. He spoke to me about it after the school had broken up this morning; said he'd rather be licked by me than by any of the other fellows, and I really believe he meant what he said." "He has evidently learnt how to take a defeat in the proper spirit. I suppose you are very elated at being the victor?" "No, I don't think I am. Mother and father are pleased, but I'm not so glad as I thought I should be." The boy spoke in a depressed tone, as though he took a jaundiced view of things in general. "Your mother was telling me the other day that you are fond of drawing and painting," Mr. Willis said, after a lengthened pause, during which he had been debating what subject would be likely to interest his young companion. Gilbert's face brightened as he admitted the truth of his mother's statement. "I haven't touched a brush for nearly two months myself," Mr. Willis continued, with a faint sigh; "my illness has been a great drawback, but now I am so much better and stronger, I shall soon be at work again: I have chosen a pleasant room at Haresdown House for a studio. You must come and see it."