"Good!" he said. "Couldn't be better! Good enough for the pious little fraud! After that, he won't lecture me so much—me, his elder brother! I wonder I haven't wrung his neck before now."
"He might resist, you know," said Luke, dryly.
"Do you think I ain't a match for the little cur?" blustered Stephen.
"I think he might give you more trouble than you think for. He's strong and muscular for a boy of his age, and he isn't a coward. I'll give him credit for so much."
This led to more boasts on the part of Stephen, to which his companion listened, with an amused smile. He despised Stephen, who was far inferior to himself in education and manners; for Luke was fitted for a better career than he had been led to adopt.
The next afternoon Paul was returning to Chicago by the usual train. He had met with fair success in selling his papers and books; indeed with rather more than the average, having sold three bound novels, which sale afforded him a handsome profit.
In passing through the cars, his attention had been turned more than once to an old man, with a long gray beard and hair of the same color, who was dressed in rather an old-fashioned suit. Experience had taught him that men of that appearance are seldom likely to buy anything more than a daily paper, and he had not left any circulars with the old Quaker, for such his broad-brimmed hat showed him to be.
"Come here, boy!" called the old gentleman, as he was passing the second time. "What has thee to sell?"
"All the illustrated papers and magazines," answered Paul. "I have besides some novels, if you want to look at them."
"Nay, my young friend; life is too brief to read such light books. Has thee the Atlantic Monthly?"