“Do you think I would demean myself by asking anybody’s pardon?” demanded Philip, his pride getting the better of his prudence.
“That is exactly what I expect, Philip Ross. If I had played such a mean trick on any one, I should think it no more than right to do just that thing.”
“No,” said Philip, stubbornly; “I won’t do that, but I will give you the two dollars.”
“I don’t want your two dollars,” returned Harry, contemptuously.
Two dollars was not so large a sum in his eyes as it would have been the day previous, for in the last twenty-four hours he had earned, and was confident of receiving, a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars. Still, even if this had not been the case, he would have disdained to sell his assistance to Philip.
“The money will do you a great deal more good than my asking your pardon,” argued Philip.
“No, it won’t. I am not very much in need of money, but I won’t help a boy who has acted toward me as you have, unless you will apologize.”
“Don’t be a fool! Come and help me, and the money will be yours.”
“It is no use, Philip; my mind is made up. Will you apologize?”
“No.”