‘It seems, Master Joe, that the young lady did not reciprocate the rapturous delight you feel, at sight of _your_ picture. My sister says--I’ll read you her very words--“she does not like the portrait of your friend Atlee; he may be clever and amusing, she says, but he is undeniably false.” Mind that--undeniably false.’ ‘That’s all the fault of the artist. The stupid dog would place me in so strong a light that I kept blinking.’ ‘No, no. She reads you like a book,’ said the other. ‘I wish to Heaven she would, if she would hold me like one.’ ‘And the nice way she qualifies your cleverness, by calling you amusing.’ ‘She could certainly spare that reproach to her cousin Dick,’ said he, laughing; ‘but no more of this sparring. When do you mean to take me down to the country with you? The term will be up on Tuesday.’ ‘That will demand a little consideration now. In the fall of the year, perhaps. When the sun is less powerful the light will be more favourable to your features.’ ‘My poor Dick, I cram you with good advice every day; but one counsel I never cease repeating, “Never try to be witty.” A dull fellow only cuts his finger with a joke; he never catches it by the handle. Hand me over that letter of your sister’s; I like the way she writes. All that about the pigs and the poultry is as good as the _Farmer’s Chronicle_.’ The other made no other reply than by coolly folding up the letter and placing it in his pocket; and then, after a pause, he said-- ‘I shall tell Miss Kearney the favourable impression her epistolary powers have produced on my very clever and accomplished chum, Mr. Atlee.’ ‘Do so; and say, if she’d take me for a correspondent instead of you, she’d be “exchanging with a difference.” On my oath,’ said he seriously, ‘I believe a most finished education might be effected in letter-writing. I’d engage to take a clever girl through a whole course of Latin and Greek, and a fair share of mathematics and logic, in a series of letters, and her replies would be the fairest test of her acquirement.’ ‘Shall I propose this to my sister?’ ‘Do so, or to your cousin. I suspect Maritana would be an apter pupil.’ ‘The bell has stopped. We shall be late in the hall,’ said Kearney, throwing on his gown hurriedly and hastening away; while Atlee, taking some proof-sheets from the chimney-piece, proceeded to correct them, a slight flicker of a smile still lingering over his dark but handsome face.