“Get up without any more fuss, John,” said his father, impatiently.
Very discontentedly John climbed up to the box and took his seat beside the driver. He felt very angry with our hero for declining to sacrifice his own convenience to him. It appeared to him that, as the son of General Wall, the richest man in Portville, he had a right to the best of everything.
“Do you know who that boy is, that wouldn’t give me his seat?” he asked of Abner.
“Never saw him before,” said the driver.
“Is he going to Portville?”
“Yes, so he told me.”
“Do you know where he is going to stop?”
“No, he didn’t tell me.”
“Do you think it’s going to rain much?”
“I reckon it will be a smart sprinkle. You’d better take off them kid gloves of your’n if you don’t want them spoiled.”