"Don't talk so loud," said the fisher-boy, who, although quite as much affected as Tom, succeeded in controlling himself. "There are some men looking at us."
"I don't care!" replied Tom, recklessly. "It will be all over the village by this time to-morrow. I've been the biggest kind of a dunce!"
"So have I, in more ways than one. I'm ruined now, and I have a good mind to jump into the harbor myself. Here's your letter!"
"O, I don't want to see it! Take it away! Throw it overboard! Tear it up!" cried Tom, his tears bursting out afresh. "I wish I had ten dollars more, to send on for that lucky package."
"It would only be money wasted," said Bob. "The whole thing is a humbug!"
"I know better," shouted Tom. "You'll never be a rich man so long as you allow your doubts to stand in your way. What will all the fellows say when they find out that I ordered that splendid little yacht, and then couldn't pay for her?"
Tom cried harder than ever as he asked this question, which excited a serious train of reflections in the mind of the fisher-boy. What would his mother say to him when she learned that he had squandered five dollars of his money, and told her a falsehood besides?
"O, get away from me, now, Bob Jennings!" roared Tom, whose disappointment seemed to have turned his brain. "I don't want you or any body else near me."
"Good by!" said the fisher-boy. "If you are going to keep up that howling you had better get away from here yourself. You'll raise the town in five minutes more!"