“Do you refuse to take me in your boat then?” asked Robert.
“I certainly do.”
“Although I may be compelled to stay here all night?”
“That’s nothing to me.”
Robert was silent a moment. He didn’t like to have any quarrel with Herbert’s cousin, but he was a boy of spirit, and he could not let George leave without giving vent to his feeling.
“George Randolph,” he broke out, “I don’t care whether your father is worth a million; it doesn’t make you a gentleman. You are a mean, contemptible fellow!”
“How dare you talk to me in that way, you young fisherman?” gasped George in astonishment and wrath.
“Because I think it will do you good to hear the truth,” said Robert hotly. “You are the meanest fellow I ever met, and if I were Herbert Irving I’d pack you back to the city by the first train.”
“You impudent rascal!” exclaimed George. “I’ve a good mind to come on shore and give you a flogging!”
“I wish you’d try it,” said Robert significantly. “You might find yourself no match for a fisherman’s boy.”