"It seems the arrangement was mutually agreeable," said the old gentleman. "Are you going to stay long in Cincinnati, Mr. Grey?"
"Yes, sir—I expect to."
"Then you must come and see us often."
"I should like to." Tom was on the point of adding, "tip-top," but stopped just in time.
Here the bell rang for supper, and the party adjourned to the dining-room. There were seats for four. Bessie sat opposite her father, having on one side Maurice, on the other Tom. The latter, I am bound to say, felt a little embarrassed. He knew that the usages of the family he was visiting must be different from those to which he was accustomed, and he was afraid he might make some blunder. He resolved, therefore, to watch Maurice carefully, and do whatever he did. Eating with a fork, he thought odd, and not nearly as convenient as a knife. Still, he did it to avoid mistakes. Maurice watched him, hoping to detect him in blunders, but to no purpose. He was, perhaps, slightly awkward, but committed no breaches of etiquette.
"This is Mr. Grey, Maurice," introduced Mr. Benton, at the commencement of the meal.
"I have the honor of knowing Mr. Grey," said Maurice, stiffly.
There was a slight emphasis on the word honor, which Mr. Benton did not notice.
After supper Mr. Benton said:
"I am obliged to go out on a little business, but you young people can amuse yourselves without me. Perhaps Mr. Grey would like to hear you play, Bessie."