THE FENCING-MASTER.
"You'll win," said Dorry. "You always do. Ed Tyler says you are the finest fencer he ever saw, excepting Professor Valerio, and he says you beat even the professor sometimes."
"Nonsense!" said Donald, severely, though his face betrayed his pleasure. "Ed Tyler himself's a match for any one."
"What a mutual-admiration society you two are!"
Dorry said this so good-naturedly that Donald could not resent it, and his good-nature made her add:
"Well, I don't care. You're both splendid, if I do say it; and, oh, isn't the professor handsome! He's so straight and tall. Uncle says he's a standing argument against round shoulders."
Dorry had taken a photograph from the table, and had been talking partly to it and partly to Donald. As she laid the picture down again, Fandy stepped up to take a look.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"It's Professor Valerio, Don's fencing-master."
"Whew! See his soword!" exclaimed the small boy, looking at the picture in great admiration. "My, wouldn't I like to fight him!"