“That child as you call him,” ventured Mr. Harkins, a note of amusement in his voice, “is, I believe, nearly seventeen years old.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” shouted the other.
“Nothing, except that he’s nearly two years older than my boy.”
“Age is not the only thing—”
“No,” interrupted Mr. Harkins, “weight should be considered. Arthur is not only older, but he is much heavier than Herbert.”
“Do you mean to say,” exclaimed the banker in amazement, “that you are taking up for that boy?”
“Oh, no,” said Mr. Harkins pleasantly, “that’s not necessary. Herbert seems to be fully capable of taking up for himself.”
“Take care, Harkins,” said the rich man, banging his cane angrily on the floor; “take care; don’t attempt to trifle with me!”
David Harkins paid no attention to this outburst, but sat silent wondering what would come next. His curiosity was soon satisfied.
John Black arose with a gesture of impatience.