“That he is,” cried Stan warmly; “but that means I’m not a bit like him there.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the manager slowly. “One can’t say at the end of half-an-hour, but I’m beginning to think you will not be so very bad after all.”
“I hope not,” said Stan, smiling.
“I thought at first that you would be a regular stuck-up cub. But I don’t think so now. Look here, youngster; can you be honest?”
“I hope so.”
“Then tell me what you thought of me.”
“That you were a disagreeable bully.”
“Hah! That’s pretty blunt,” said the manager, frowning. “So that’s what you think of me, is it?”
“You asked me what I thought of you, not what I think.”
“Right; so I did. Then what do you think of me?”