“But what is the use of friends if they do not take a part in one’s quarrels?” asked Joe.
John looked at her earnestly for a few seconds, and saw that she was perfectly sincere. He had grown to like Josephine of late, and he was grateful to her for her friendship. Her manner that morning, when she told him of her discovery, had made a deep impression on him.
“My dear Miss Thorn,” he said earnestly, in a low voice, “you are too good and kind, and I thank you very heartily for your friendship. But I think you were very wise not to cut Vancouver, and I hope you will not quarrel with anybody for any matter so trivial.” The color came to Joe’s face, but not for anger this time.
“Trivial!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, trivial,” John repeated. “Remember that it is the policy of that paper to abuse me, and that if Vancouver had not written the article, the editor could have found some one else easily enough who would have done it.”
“But it is such a dastardly thing!” said Joe. “He always says to every one that he has the greatest respect for you, and then he does a thing like this. If I were you I would kill him–I am sure I would.”
“That would not be the way to win an election nowadays,” said John, laughing.
“Oh, I would not care about that,” said Joe, hotly. “But I dare say it is very silly of me,” she added. “You do not seem to mind it at all.”
“It is not worth while to lose one’s temper or one’s soul for the iniquities of Mr. Pocock Vancouver,” said John. “The man may do me harm, but as I never expected his friendship or help, he neither falls nor rises in my estimation on that account. Blessed are they who expect nothing!”
“Blessed indeed,” said Joe. “But one cannot help expecting men who have the reputation of being gentlemen to behave decently.”