Mark surveyed James, with a quizzical smile, for he had a genuine boy's disdain for affectation, and James was a very good specimen of a self-conceited dude, though the latter term had not yet come into use.
"Yes," he said, after a slight pause, "it is a consideration—to a working boy like me."
"How much now does my father pay you?" inquired James, with gracious condescension.
"Seventy-five cents a day—that's the average."
"Very fair pay! I suppose you take it home to your mother?"
"Yes, I do," answered Mark.
"She's—ah—very poor, I hear."
Mark began to find his patronage on the whole rather oppressive. He had a sturdy independence of feeling that grew restive under the young patrician's condescension.
"We are poor," he answered, "but we have enough to eat, and to wear, and a roof to cover us—"
"Exactly. You are indebted to my father for that."