"Good-day, Miss Lawrence!" said Mr. Bartlett, again lifting his hat, and retracing his steps. For his life he could not have passed her and run the gauntlet of the faces of her friends upon the narrow path. Every soul of them would have instantly seen what a fool he was. Moreover, he had achieved enough for one day. The soldier who storms a perilous breach and finds himself alive on the inside of it could not be more astonished than he. "I blundered awfully," he thought; "but, after all, it's the one way to learn."—"Who's your friend, Bertha?" asked her brother, Dick Morris, the avant-guard of the party. "I never saw the fellow before."
"If you had not frightened him by your sudden appearance," said she, "you might have discovered. A Southerner, I suppose, though he don't look like one. He addressed me as Miss Lawrence, of South Carolina, and afterwards left me his card, to be given to her. What shall I do with it?"
"Ha! the card will tell us who he is," said Dick, picking it up. He instantly burst into a roar of laughter. "Ha! ha! This comes of wearing a Bloomer, Bertha! Though I must say it's by no means complimentary to your little feet. Who'd suspect you of having corns?"
"Dick, what do you mean?"
"Ha! ha! no doubt I came at the nick of time to prevent him from pulling off your shoes."
"DICK!"
Therewith she impatiently jerked the card from her brother's hand. It was large, thick, handsomely glazed, and contained the following inscription:
PROFESSOR HURLBUT,
Chiropodist
To her Majesty Queen Victoria, and the
Nobility of Great Britain.
"Incredible!" she exclaimed. "So young, and embarrassed in his manners; how could he ever have taken hold of the Queen's foot?"
"Embarrassed indeed!" said Dick. "I think he has a very cool way of procuring patients. But, faith, he's chosen a romantic operating-room. After climbing down these rocks the corns naturally begin to twinge, and here's the Professor on hand. Behold the march of civilization!"