Winthrop came a step nearer and laid a letter on the table.
The old gentleman took it up, examined the outside, and then
went on to scan what was within, holding the lines in the same
fearful proximity to his face; so near indeed, that to
Winthrop's astonishment when he got to the bottom of the page
he made no scruple of turning over the leaf with his nose. The
letter was folded, and then Mr. Glanbally rose to his feet.

"Well, sir, and so you have come to take a place in our
Academy for a spell -- I am glad to see you -- sit down."

Which Winthrop did; and Mr. Glanbally sat looking at him, a
little business-like, a little curious, a little benevolent.

"What have you studied?"

"Very little, sir, -- of anything."

"Your father says, his second son -- What was the name of the
other?"

"William, sir."

"William what?"

"Landholm."

"William Landholm -- yes, I recollect -- I couldn't make out
exactly whether it was _Sandball_ or _Lardner_ -- Mr. Landholm --
Where is your brother now, sir?"