“I understand you, Guy,” said Hector, half turning to look at the boy who had usurped his place. “I hope you won’t think it impolite if I say that I care nothing whatever for your opinion.”
“You put on as many airs as ever,” sneered Guy. “I should think you would be a little more humble in your changed position.”
“I have not changed, even if my position has,” answered Hector. “Money is nothing to be proud of.”
“I apprehend that the world judges differently,” said Allan Roscoe. “Since you have taken your destiny into your own hands, you will excuse me for asking how you intend to earn your living?”
“I hope to get a mercantile position,” answered Hector.
“Take my advice,” said Guy, with a derisive smile, “and buy yourself a blacking box and brush. I am told bootblacks make a good deal of money.”
“Hush, Guy!” said his father. “Do not insult Hector.”
But Hector concerned himself but little with any slight received from Guy Roscoe. His words, however, recalled his thoughts to the boy he had so recently met, Larry Deane, and he resolved to see if he could not help him by an appeal to Allan Roscoe.
“Mr. Roscoe,” said he, quickly, “I nearly forgot something I want very much to say to you.”
“What is it?” asked his guardian, suspiciously. It occurred to him that Hector wished to borrow some money, and he was considering how little he could decently give him.