I.
THE ESCAPE
'TWAS a bloomy morning, all crocuses and tree buds, and Antony sniffed it into his nostrils thankfully, even while he scowled.
"Come, come!" said his Uncle Julius, a wealthy old gentleman buttoned firmly into a white vest, "what a face! It is nothing so terrible that I ask of you! One would think it a hanging matter, to beau a pretty young girl about the place!"
"You know that I do not care for schoolgirls, Uncle Julius," said Antony severely.
"Fiddlestick!" his Uncle Julius cried, "and what are you sir, but a school boy, I should like to know? What shall we hear next, I wonder?"
Antony put on some fresh grey gloves with a sigh.
"Schoolgirl! Schoolgirl!" his uncle repeated mimickingly, "she 3 will not be reciting her lessons, I suppose!"