"Now, if you've finished, clear the table and get me pen and ink."
The boy obeyed.
With a hand that trembled visibly, the hand of one who habitually drank to excess, but which yet resembled the white, well-kept hand of a gentleman, Gus' father wrote his name on a slip of paper.
"There it is," he said, laying down the pen; "there it is—the name of a gentleman. Gus, do you know that you are a gentleman by birth?"
"A gentleman!" repeated Gus, more astonished than ever.
"Yes; do you know what a gentleman is?"
"A swell," said the boy.
"I wish you would not use such expressions!" cried his father, with a frown. "But there, what else can I expect? How should you know any better? I suppose you think a gentleman is just a man who wears good clothes and has plenty to eat and drink?"
"Yes," said Gus.
"Well, then, let me tell you that money and fine clothes have nothing to do with being a gentleman. A gentleman is one who is brave, who speaks the truth, who is honest and faithful—"