“Oh, of course,” cried the boy. “Father will be very glad, I am sure. We so seldom have anyone to see us here.”
Quite unconsciously the boy went on chatting, little realising that he was literally answering his visitor’s questions and giving him a full account of their life at the villa and farm.
He noted how sparingly his visitor ate and drank, and pressed him hospitably to partake of more, but, after a few minutes, the guest responded by smilingly waving the bread and wine aside.
“Quantum sufficit, my boy,” he said; “but I will eat a few of your grapes.”
He broke off a tiny bunch, and went on talking as he glanced around.
“Your studies?” he said, pointing to the tablets and stylus. “And you read?”
“Oh yes,” said the boy. “My father teaches me. He is a great student.”
“Indeed?” said the guest. “And are you a great student too?”
“No,” cried Marcus, merrily; “only a great stupid boy!”
“Very,” said the visitor, sarcastically. “Well, and what are you going to be when you grow up?”