The interview would have made a fine subject for a picture. The boy, on his dignity every inch of him, making believe that he did not care a continental about the matter; but too unskilled in dissembling to prove the fact, and keep down the quick flashes of eye and flushes of cheek. The introducer, the childless uncle to whom his sister's son was the one boy of all the world. Opposite them the old Congressman, with chair at an uncertain angle and hat ditto; tilting back in the cool shady porch, and listening with a scarce hid smile to the tale of Charlemagne's attainments. "Has he room in his head for anything more?" he demanded, when Mr. Thorn paused. "He'll want a little, over there." "I am ready to learn all they teach, sir!" said young Magnus, firing up. "You think I don't know anything now--and maybe I don't." "Maybe--" said the Congressman drily. "How about the _outside_ of your head? You'll get it rough and ready, at West Point." "I've got hands!" said Magnus with another flush. "True," said the Honourable Miles Ironwood. "Well, take good care of them." "And I have understood," put in Mr. Thorn, "that hazing is quite stamped out at West Point." Mr. Ironwood skilfully rocked his chair upon its two hind legs, a mocking smile upon his lips. "Ever see a bit of woodland that was half trees and two-thirds rocks?" he said. "I was brought up on just such a place," said Mr. Thorn. "Ever fight a fire there?" "Many a time." "H'm--I thought perhaps you hadn't," said the Congressman. "Well, Mr. Thorn, this district is not represented at West Point just now; last appointment resigned some months ago, and I suppose it had better be filled. And this young man doesn't look as if he would give the Tacs more trouble than common. And if they go for him, that is his lookout and not mine." "Who are the Tacs, sir?" inquired Magnus. "Men who come round every morning to see if you have washed your face," said Mr. Ironwood, without moving a muscle of his own. "And every night, to tuck you up and bring away the light." Magnus coloured indignantly; but a certain twinkle in Mr. Ironwood's eye kept him silent. "What do they teach there, chiefly?" said Mr. Thorn. "What had Magnus better learn before he goes?" "Learn everything you can, when you are going _anywhere_," said Mr. Ironwood impressively. "They teach riding--a little--at West Point. And mathematics--some." "Charlemagne can ride," said his uncle proudly. "On his head?" "Why no!" said Mr. Thorn. "Will that be required?" "I've seen 'em on their heads, in that riding-hall," said the Congressman with an easy change of position. "They teach the classics, of course?" "He'll hear something about Achilles, like as not," said Mr. Ironwood. "Hector, too. Not so much of either as he will of Charlemagne." Again the suggestive gleam of the eye acted upon the boy as both spur and check. "And you have no general advice to give him, Mr. Ironwood, as to what he had best do to prepare himself?"