Leo put his hands in his pockets, and from his six feet of height eyed from head to foot the anæmic youth, who was endeavouring in vain to assume an air of dignified disdain. Then he laughed and said--
"So you are the son of dear old papa Brenckenberg?"
"My father is Pastor Brenckenberg of Wengern," snarled the pugnacious young man. "But that has nothing to do with it."
"And how is the dear old papa?"
"I have asked you to give me satisfaction, sir."
"Remember me to your father. Congratulate him from me on having reared so promising and sober a sprig for a son."
"What do you mean? Remember, sir, that I am a corps student."
"Then I am afraid, young man, that you'll have to put your nose to the grindstone," answered Leo, "before you become anything better."
The Candidate gave a swaggering bow. "There is nothing to detain me here longer," he said.
"Have you only now discovered that?" Leo asked, turning his back on him. "But wait a moment! One thing more you may tell your good old papa, and that is, I should advise him to put a stop to his gentlemanly son loafing about in Halewitz Park when other people are in bed, with the object of singing pretty songs there, otherwise it is quite possible that the said young gentleman may be brought home to him the next morning suffering from dog-bites."