"Oh! Austin, Austin," cried my mother, running up and throwing her arms round my father's neck; while I, little less alarmed by Squills's serious tone and aspect, represented strongly the inutility of Mr. Caxton's personal interference at the present moment. All he could do on arriving in town would be to put the matter into the hands of a good lawyer, and that we could do for him; it would be time enough to send for him when the extent of the mischief done was more clearly ascertained. Meanwhile Squills griped my father's pulse, and my mother hung on his neck. "Ninety-six--ninety-seven!" groaned Squills in a hollow voice. "I don't believe it!" cried my father, almost in a passion,--"never better nor cooler in my life." "And the tongue--Look at his tongue, Mrs. Caxton,--a tongue, ma'am, so bright that you could see to read by it!" "Oh! Austin, Austin!" "My dear, it is not my tongue that is in fault, I assure you," said my father, speaking through his teeth; "and the man knows no more of my tongue than he does of the Mysteries of Eleusis." "Put it out then," exclaimed Squills; "and if it be not as I say, you have my leave to go to London and throw your whole fortune into the two great pits you have dug for it. Put it out!" "Mr. Squills!" said my father, coloring,--"Mr. Squills, for shame!" "Dear, dear, Austin! your hand is so hot; you are feverish, I am sure." "Not a bit of it." "But, sir, only just gratify Mr. Squills," said I, coaxingly. "There, there!" said my father, fairly baited into submission, and shyly exhibiting for a moment the extremest end of the vanquished organ of eloquence. Squills darted forward his lynx-like eyes. "Red as a lobster, and rough as a gooseberry-bush!" cried Squills, in a tone of savage joy. CHAPTER III. How was it possible for one poor tongue, so reviled and persecuted, so humbled, insulted, and triumphed over, to resist three tongues in league against it? Finally, my father yielded, and Squills; in high spirits, declared that he would go to supper with me, to see that I ate nothing that would tend to discredit his reliance on my system. Leaving my mother still with her Austin, the good surgeon then took my arm, and as soon as we were in the next room, shut the door carefully, wiped his forehead, and said: "I think we have saved him!" "Would it really, then, have injured my father so much?" "So much? Why, you foolish young man, don't you see that with his ignorance of business where he himself is concerned,--though for any other one's business, neither Rollick nor Cool has a better judgment,-- and with his d--d Quixotic spirit of honor worked up into a state of excitement, he would have rushed to Mr. Tibbets and exclaimed, "How much do we owe you? There it is' settled in the same way with these printers, and come back without a sixpence; whereas you and I can look coolly about us and reduce the inflammation to the minimum!" "I see, and thank you heartily, Squills."