“This seems strange, since you are an American.”
“Yet you are disposed to be my friend,” said Guy, smiling, “in spite of this drawback.”
“True.”
“I will show you a letter written by the boy to Mr. Saunders, and you can give me your opinion of it.”
August Locke cast his eyes over the letter of Vivian Bell already quoted in a previous chapter.
“Poor chap!” said the young Englishman. “He does seem to be having a hard time of it.”
“Can you tell me anything about Simon Musgrave, the doctor’s son?”
“Not much. When I was at school he was a small boy in knickerbockers. He was old enough, however, to show that he was a chip of the old block, and inherited his father’s unpleasant traits. That he would bully a boy whom he disliked I can readily believe. I remember once giving him a thrashing for impertinence. I got flogged for it by the doctor, but I had the consolation of knowing that I had hurt Simon quite as much as his father hurt me.”
“I don’t think he would bully me.”
“You don’t look like a boy that would allow himself to be bullied. I suppose this Vivian Bell is a different sort of boy.”