“What do I care for the trumpery prize? It didn’t cost more than a dollar and a half. My father will buy me a dozen such books, if I want them.”
“Perhaps he will; but for all that you’d have taken it quick enough if you could have got it. It isn’t the value of the book, it’s what it means.”
“What does it mean?”
“That Harry Raymond is the best speaker in the Vernon High School.”
“Boys,” said Harry, quietly, “don’t trouble yourselves to defend me. I don’t care what James Turner says. Perhaps the book didn’t cost more than a dollar and a half, but it was given me by your votes, and that makes it worth more to me than if it cost a hundred dollars. I haven’t had a chance to say it before, but I am grateful to you for your kindness in awarding it to me, and I shall always treasure it for that reason.”
“Three cheers for Harry Raymond!” called out Walter Sheffield, waving his arm, and giving the signal.
The three cheers were given with a will, and Harry looked gratified at this proof of the regard in which he was held.
“Now three groans for James Turner!” said another.
“No, boys,” said Harry, promptly; “don’t do that.”