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 the edge of David's bed. It was only twelve o'clock, but David had gone to bed early, and had at once sunk into that deep first sleep from which every one is so reluctant to be roused. His first words were, "Well, well, what did I tell you?" which meant, though he never confessed it, that the dream of his life was that Austin would call on his legal knowledge to extricate him from the results of some hideous imprudence. Then, waking up and looking very wise, he said:

"Ah, Austin! How's the school?"

"All right," answered Austin. He had a frequent impulse to confide in his friend on account of his sound, sincere affection—an impulse always checked by David's unimaginative mental processes.

"Any of the little darlings in love with you yet?"

David supposed Austin was changing the subject when, instead of answering this question, he asked one of his own:

"How are you and Susie getting on?"

Rare indeed is the nature that does not become a little more intense when its own affairs come under discussion. David sat up, his rumpled hair mitigating that "aristocratic sort of ugliness" which Mrs. Rolles admired.