Jamie turned to go.
"Has Miss Mercy—has Miss McMurtagh encouraged him?"
Jamie turned back angrily. "She'll forbid the lad tha hoose, an ye say so."
Mr. James seized his hat and fled precipitately, leaving Jamie glowering at the grate. On his way up the street he met his father, and took him into the old Ship tavern to have a glass of flip; and then he told the story.
Mr. Bowdoin took his hat off to rub his forehead with his old bandanna, thereby setting fluttering a pair of twenty-thousand-dollar notes he had just discounted. "Dear me! I'll tell Harley not to go there any more. Poor old Jamie!"
"Better ship the rascal to Bordeaux," said Mr. James, picking up the notes.
"And have him lose his course in college?"
"What good did that do us? We were rusticated most of the time, as he has just been"—
"Speak for yourself, young man!" cried Mr. Bowdoin.
"Haven't I a copy of the verses you addressed to Miss Sally White when you were
