“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about. I recently read in some paper that a man in my line had made a trip to Australia, and reaped a rich harvest. Everywhere he was received with enthusiasm, and made as much money, in one month as he would do here in four. Now why shouldn’t I go to Australia?” Harry’s eyes sparkled. “It would be a fine thing to do,” he said. “Then you would be willing to accompany me?” “I would thank you for taking me,” answered the boy. “That is well!” said the professor, in a tone of satisfaction. “I confess I shouldn’t like to go alone. It would be a great undertaking, but with a companion it would seem different. But, is there anyone who would object to your going?” “Yes,” answered Harry, smiling, “Mr. Fox, my ‘guardeen,’ would.” “We won’t mind Mr. Fox. Very well, then, Harry, we will consider it settled. I shall rely on you to help me by your singing there as you do here. As to your wages, I may be able to pay you more.” “Never mind about that, professor. It will cost you a good deal to get us there. I am perfectly willing to work for the same sum I do now, or even less, on account of the extension of the trip.” “Then you leave that matter to me. I won’t take advantage of your confidence, but you shall prosper if I do.” “How soon do you propose to go, professor?” asked Harry, with interest. “As soon as possible. I shall ascertain when the first packet leaves Boston, and we will take passage in her.” The professor’s decision pleased Harry. He had been a good scholar in geography--indeed, it was his favorite study--and had, besides, read as many books of travel as he could lay his hands on. Often he had wondered if it ever would be his fortune to see some of the distant countries of which he read with so much interest. Though he had cherished vague hopes, he had never really expected it. Now, however, the unattainable seemed within his grasp. He would not have to wait until he was a rich man, but when still a boy he could travel to the opposite side of the world, paying his expenses as he went along. Two weeks passed. Each day they halted in some new place, and gave an evening performance. This life of constant motion had, at first, seemed strange to Harry. Now he was accustomed to it. He never felt nervous when he appeared before an audience to sing, but looked upon it as a matter of course. At last they reached Boston. They were to give two entertainments at a hall at the south end. It was the first large city in which Harry had sung, but he received a welcome no less cordial than that which had been accorded to him in country towns. They were staying at a modest hotel, comfortable, but not expensive. Harry was sitting in the reading room, when a servant brought in a card. It bore the rather remarkable name of “DR. MENDELSSOHN BROWN.” “A gentleman to see you, Mr. Vane,” said the servant.