"Good morning, my young friend!" cried the cheery voice of Mr. Oldstone as they entered the breakfast room together; "it is a fine day for you."
Our artist nodded assent, and having shaken hands with all the members in turn, seated himself at the breakfast table, and tried to keep up a cheerful appearance, but his smile was hollow, and his face was pale.
"I wish you would let me give you a little opening medicine, Mr. McGuilp," broke in Dr. Bleedem, in the midst of a lull in the conversation; "it would soon set you to rights."
Our artist persisted that he was all right, and required nothing.
"H'm, h'm," muttered the doctor to himself with a shake of the head, as much as to say, "You don't fool me."
Conversation then took a general turn, and our artist was allowed to finish his meal unmolested.
Breakfast was hardly concluded when a horn was heard in the distance. "There's the stage!" cried one of the members.
"'The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,'" quoted Mr. Blackdeed from his great poet; but the quotation fell flat on the ears of our artist, who had grown a shade paler.
"I am quite sure, Mr. McGuilp," went on the irrepressible Doctor Bleedem, "that if you were to follow my advice——"
"There, that's enough, Bleedem. Leave the boy alone," broke in Mr. Oldstone. "Here comes the stage. God bless you, my boy. Take an old man's blessing with you. I know I shan't see you again this side of Time. I'm getting old; I know it; I feel it. But write me as soon as you get to Rome to say you have arrived safely; and here is a letter to my old friend Rustcoin, which please give him with your own hands when you see him. There, good-bye, good-bye." Here the kind old antiquary mopped his eyes, gave our artist a fatherly pat on the back, and followed him to the door.