He had an honorable pride in maintaining himself, and would rather get along on one meal a day, earned by himself in honest independence, than be indebted to public charity even for a luxurious support.
“Squire Pope doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” retorted Philip, who had to exercise some self-restraint not to express himself more forcibly “and you can tell him so when you see him. I am no more likely to go to the poorhouse than you are!”
“Come, that’s a good one,” chuckled Nick. “Talk of me goin’ to the poorhouse, when my father pays one of the biggest taxes in town! Of course, it’s different with you.”
“You’ll have to excuse me now,” said Philip, determined to get rid of his disagreeable companion. “I have something to do.”
“Then you won’t sell me the fiddle, Phil?”
“No, I won’t,” answered our hero, with scant ceremony.
“Then I’ll have to bid it off at the auction. Maybe I’ll get it cheaper.”
And Mr. Nicholas Holden at length relieved Philip of his company.
CHAPTER IV.
THE AUCTION.
It so happened that Nick Holden met Squire Pope on the village street, and, being rather disappointed at the result of his negotiations with Philip, thought it might be a good idea to broach the subject to the squire, who, as he knew, had taken it upon himself to superintend the sale of Mr. Gray’s goods.