"By just making the best use of your opportunities to improve yourself, my lad," smiled his friend, patting him on the shoulder.
"But, sir—in the vacation—it will give you trouble—"
"It will afford me pleasure, Ishmael! I hope you can take my word for that?"
"Oh, Mr. Middleton! Indeed you—how can I ever prove myself grateful enough?"
"By simply getting on as fast as you can, boy! as I told you before. And let me tell you now, that there is good reason why you should now make the best possible use of your time; it may be short."
"Sir?" questioned Ishmael in perplexity and vague alarm.
"I should rather have said it must be short! I will explain. You know Mr. Herman Brudenell?"
"Mr—Herman—Brudenell," repeated the unconscious son, slowly and thoughtfully; then, as a flash of intelligence lighted up his face, he exclaimed: "Oh, yes, sir, I know who you mean; the young gentleman who owns Brudenell Hall, and who is now traveling in Europe."
"Yes! but he is not such a very young gentleman now; he must be between thirty-five and forty years of age. Well, my boy, you know, of course, that he is my landlord. When I rented this place, I took it by the year, and at a very low price, as the especial condition that I should leave it at six months' warning. Ishmael, I have received that warning this morning. I must vacate the premises on the first of next February."
Ishmael looked confounded. "Must vacate these premises the first of next February," he echoed, in a very dreary voice.