"Each to his taste, Fitz," said Oscar. "If you have a taste for chimneys, I hope your father won't interfere."
"I haven't a taste for such a low business," said Fletcher, haughtily. "I should like it as well as being a printer's devil though."
"Would you? At any rate, if you take it up, you'll be sure to be well sooted."
Fletcher did not laugh at the joke. He never could see any wit in jokes directed at himself.
"How long are you going to stay at that beastly school?" he asked.
"I am not staying at any beastly school."
"I mean the Academy."
"Till I am ready for college. Where are you studying?"
"I recite to a private tutor."
"Well, we shall meet at 'Harvard' if we are lucky enough to get in."