“What’s he got against him?” demanded Jim, resenting the idea that any one should rob him of his anticipated pleasure.
“You heard what he said last night; Halliard holds himself so much better than he that he feels it his duty to bring him down a peg or two; he told me that while you and I took a stroll wherever we chose, he would go down to Piketon to get some things at the store and before he came back would fix Halliard.”
“I wonder if he did it before Halliard pulled me out of the pond—I mean before I pulled him out.”
“If he did, it couldn’t have amounted to much, for he didn’t act like a chap suffering harm. No, it must be that Bob has missed him; but he’s likely to catch him on the way back. It’s so late that Bob must be coming home, and he’ll be sure to meet the young gentleman and will give him a laying-out that he will remember for years.”
Jim smoked a few minutes in silence. It is a principle of human nature that if we do another a kindness we are apt to feel more friendly disposed toward him than before, while the one receiving the favor is inclined to resent it. His gratitude may overmaster this mean emotion, but there is something in the thought of being under obligations to another which is unpleasant, and results in stirring up emotions that are no credit to us.
Jim McGovern could not forget that he was trying to injure an innocent person when that person saved him from drowning. Had he not been thus engaged, probably he might not have felt so ugly toward him. But his situation was so humiliating, considered in all aspects, that he looked upon Dick Halliard with more dislike than upon his bitterest enemy.
“Tom,” said he, rising to his feet and flinging away the remnant of a cigarette, “I aint going to stand it.”
“You are standing it this minute after sitting all the evening.”
“Stop trying to be funny; I’m going after that Halliard.”
“When—to-morrow?”