Fred. But, Harry, what has caused this sudden change?
Harry. I’ll tell you, Fred. You introduced me to Capt. Pitman’s house, to look on at the game. I was content, at first, to look on; but one night you tempted me to play. I lost seventy-five dollars to Capt. Pitman, and I had not the means to pay it. The captain was very kind: he said the money was of no consequence: I should give him my I. O. U. for the amount, and, when convenient, pay it. I gave him a note.
Fred. That was all right. He doesn’t want the money.
Harry. Ah! but he does. He met me this morning; said he was very sorry, but he must have it at once. I declared my inability to pay it. He persisted, and warned me, that, if the money was not in his hands to-day, he should be compelled to call upon my father for an explanation.
Fred. He cannot collect it. You are a minor.
Harry. Collect it! Do you suppose my father would hesitate to pay, when he knows, that, on his refusal, the whole story would be made public? Fred Hastings, rather than look upon my father’s face—his honest face—when he should feel his son was a gambler, I’d throw myself into the lake.
Fred. Oh, come, Harry! he shall not know it. I got you into the scrape, and I’ll see you out. The doctor holds money belonging to me, from which I draw for my convenience. I’ll go to him, get the money: you shall pay Capt. Pitman, and nobody be the wiser.
Harry. Will you, though? That’s kind of you, Fred; and I’ll repay you with the first money I have.