Ideal."

My very words," said the Baronet; "wonderful, wonderful!" and he
gazed fondly at the Italian boy, who again resumed his menial
employment. Alas! the wings of the Ideal were folded. The Student
had been absorbed in the Boy.

But Sir Edward's boots were blacked, and he turned to depart.
Placing his hand upon the clustering tendrils that surrounded the
classic nob of the infant Italian, he said softly, like a strain of
distant music:--

"Boy, you have done well. Love the Good. Protect the Innocent.
Provide for The Indigent. Respect the Philosopher. . . . Stay!
Can you tell we what IS The True, The Beautiful, The Innocent, The
Virtuous?"

"They are things that commence with a capital letter," said the
Boy, promptly.

"Enough! Respect everything that commences with a capital letter!
Respect ME!" and dropping a half-penny in the hand of the boy, he
departed.

The Boy gazed fixedly at the coin. A frightful and instantaneous
change overspread his features. His noble brow was corrugated with
baser lines of calculation. His black eye, serpent-like, glittered
with suppressed passion. Dropping upon his hands and feet, he
crawled to the curbstone and hissed after the retreating form of
the Baronet, the single word:--