Edward had heard that matter arranged with a little sigh of relief; his precious hour with Ray, then, would be undisturbed.
Bob was doing very much better than anybody who knew him would have imagined he _could_ do; he seemed to have made up his mind to behave himself, sure enough.

Yet his being there was a trial to Edward in several ways: he had a great horror of being called "Tip;" that name belonged to the miserable, ragged, friendless, hopeless boy who used to wander around the streets in search of mischief, not to the young man who was a faithful clerk in one of the finest stores in Albany, besides being a teacher in Sabbath school, and a very fair scholar in Latin and algebra.

But Bob Turner could not be made to understand all this; and though he stared at the neat black suit which Edward wore, and opened his eyes wide when Mr.Minturn went and came in company with his old companion, and honoured him in many ways, he still called him "Tip," in clear, round tones, that rang through the store a dozen times a day.

But there was nothing which Ray could not smooth over, so Edward thought, when one evening he flounced into the library with a very much disturbed face.
"I wish that fellow knew anything," he said angrily.
"What is the matter now ?" Ray asked, meeting the bright, angry eyes with a quiet smile.
Edward laughed a little.

"Well, I can't help feeling vexed; Bob screeches that hateful little name after me wherever I go.