“Yes,” answered Harry, coolly.
“I must go home and tell mother,” said Philip, briskly. “Wait a minute, though. Do you want a job?”
“Yes,” responded Harry, rather surprised that Philip should feel any interest in the matter.
“Then I can give you one. Come up to the house early every morning, and I’ll hire you to black my shoes. I’ll give—let me see—thirty cents a week.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t come up to your house. Bring them down to mine every morning, and I may accept the job.”
“Do you think I would demean myself by carrying dirty shoes round the village?” demanded Philip, angrily.
“I don’t know,” said Harry, coolly. “You’ll have to do it, if you want me to black them.”
Philip muttered something about impudence, but went off very well pleased, to report to his mother that she could trade at Mead’s once more, as he had sent off Harry Gilbert.