THE ESCAPE 

'TWAS a bloomy morning, all crocuses and tree buds, and Antony sniffed it into his nostrils thankfully, even while he scowled. 

"Come, come!" said his Uncle Julius, a wealthy old gentleman buttoned firmly into a white vest, "what a face! It is nothing so terrible that I ask of you! One would think it a hanging matter, to beau a pretty young girl about the place!" 

"You know that I do not care for schoolgirls, Uncle Julius," said Antony severely. 

"Fiddlestick!" his Uncle Julius cried, "and what are you sir, but a school boy, I should like to know? What shall we hear next, I wonder?" 

Antony put on some fresh grey gloves with a sigh. 

"Schoolgirl! Schoolgirl!" his uncle repeated mimickingly, "she 3 will not be reciting her lessons, I suppose!" 

3

Antony buttoned his gloves. 

"Or if she does, it will be your fault, sir," pursued his uncle. 

Antony selected a slender walking stick from a rack of many, and reviewed his collar with a critical hand. 

"The young lady's topics of conversation will be a matter of indifference to me, Uncle Julius," said he, "I assure you." 

"And I assure you," cried Uncle Julius, "that if we were not on this open porch, I should be strongly tempted to apply that stick of yours where, as we used to say, it would do the most good!" 

Antony adjusted his coat trimly and started down the steps. 

"But since we are upon this open porch, let us, Uncle Julius," 4 said he, "go where duty calls us. En avant!" 

4

He strode along the flagged walk with Uncle Julius puffing behind him, loquaciously indignant. 

"Look at your mates, sir, as we pass them, and notice how enviously they smile," he urged the youth, who replied shortly that he observed them. 

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