"He wouldn't thank you for calling us cousins," he answered. "Percy Marlowe is a boy who thinks a good deal of himself. He puts on no end of airs."
"Like his father before him. Is he a smart boy?"
"Do you mean in his studies?"
"Yes."
"I don't know what he could do if he tried, but he doesn't exert himself much. He says it isn't necessary for him, as his father is a rich man."
"How is it with you?"
"I only wish I had his chance," said Bert, warmly. "I am fond of study, but I am poor, and must work for a living."
"You have the right idea, and he has not," said the old man, sententiously.
At this moment a light buggy was driven swiftly by. Seated in it was a boy about the age of Bert, apparently, but of slighter figure. The horse, suddenly spying the old man, shied, and in a trice the buggy was upset, and the young dude went sprawling on the ground.
Bert grasped the situation, and sprang to the rescue. He seized the terrified horse, while the old man helped reverse the carriage, which fortunately had not met with any material damage. The same may be said of the young driver who, with mortified face, struggled to his feet, and surveyed ruefully the muddy stains on his handsome suit.