[Illustration: "'THE BOY'S NAME IS HILLIARD ERVENG.'"]
"Oh, Max, that would never, never do," cried Nannie, quickly. "You know how averse papa is to showing his work to any one; he couldn't do it, I'm sure, and it might make him very angry."
"And yet, if he _did_ show it, think what a benefit to you all it might be; for I am convinced the work is one that would be an acquisition to the reading public; and Erveng would recognise that at once. Think of what it means for all of you, Nancy Lee," urged Max,--"college for Felix, drawing lessons for Nora, a fine violin for you, gymnasium for Betty, a splendid military school for Jack,"--here Jack broke in rudely with, "_Don't_ want any military school, this one's bad enough," and was silenced by Phil's hand being laid suddenly and firmly over his mouth,--"and all sorts of good things for everybody, if only Erveng sees the manuscript of the Fetich" (Max knows what we call it).
Nannie still looked dubious, but Nora exclaimed: "I say, do it, Max! It does seem a shame to have us suffering for things, and that manuscript just lying down there; and perhaps then papa would stir himself a little and finish it. I declare I would like to take some of the pages over and show them to Mr. Erveng myself!"
We all knew that she wouldn't; but as she said the words, an idea popped into my head, such a splendid idea--at least I thought it was then--that I nearly giggled outright with delight, and I had positively to hold myself in to keep from telling it. Happening to look up suddenly at Phil, I caught him with a broad grin on _his_ face, and winking violently at Felix, who winked back. That did not surprise me,--those two are always signalling to each other in that way; but when they both straightened their faces the instant I saw them, and assumed a very innocent expression, then I began to suspect that they were up to some mischief: little did I dream what it was, though! Phil is a _fearful_ practical joker; you never know where he's going to break out. I'm pretty bad, but he is ever so much worse; and Felix helps him every time.
"What sort of a man _is_ Mr. Erveng?" asked Felix, with an appearance of great interest.
Max laughed. "Well, he used to be considered rather eccentric," he said. "I remember the fellows at college nick-named him 'Old-Woman Erveng,' because--so they said--he had a large picture in his room of a fat old woman in a poke bonnet; and at the social gatherings to which he could be induced to go, he always devoted himself to the oldest and fattest ladies in the room, without noticing the young and pretty girls. _I_ thought he was rather a nice sort of fellow; what's the matter, Betty, want any assistance?"