About half-past eight, a knock was heard at the door.

"Come in!" called out Oscar.

The door was opened, and a boy about his own age entered. His name
was Fitzgerald Fletcher. He was also a Boston boy, and the son of a
retail merchant, doing business on Washington street. His father
lived handsomely, and was supposed to be rich. At any rate
Fitzgerald supposed him to be so, and was very proud of the fact. He
generally let any new acquaintances understand very speedily that his
father was a man of property, and that his family moved in the first
circles of Boston Society. He cultivated the acquaintance of those
boys who belonged to rich families, and did not fail to show the
superiority which he felt to those of less abundant means. For
example, he liked to be considered intimate with Oscar, as the social
position of Mr. Vincent was higher than that of his own family. It
gave him an excuse also for calling on Oscar in Boston. He had tried
to ingratiate himself also with Oscar's sister Florence, but had only
disgusted her with his airs, so that he could not flatter himself
with his success in this direction. Oscar had very little liking for
him, but as school-fellows they often met, and Fitzgerald often
called upon him. On such occasions he treated him politely enough,
for it was not in his nature to be rude without cause.

Fitz was elaborately dressed, feeling that handsome clothes would
help convey the impression of wealth, which he was anxious to
establish. In particular he paid attention to his neckties, of which
he boasted a greater variety than any of his school-mates. It was
not a lofty ambition, but, such as it was, he was able to gratify it.