“Be kind enough to take pay for the ball out of that,” said Tom, offering a ten-dollar bill to the visitor.
Lawyer Davenport had a respect for money. Tom was no longer a charity boy, to be condescended to, but a young gentleman.
“On no account,” he said mildly. “The offer is sufficient. No doubt it was a mere boy’s quarrel. We’ll say no more about it. I shall be glad to have you come over and take supper with us some evening, Master Temple. I have no doubt you and James will become good friends yet.”
“Oh, I bear no malice,” said Tom easily. “I’ll be happy to come.”
“Come this evening, then.”
“All right. Thank you, sir.”
“I must say good-morning, Mr. Middleton,” said the lawyer. “Good-morning, Mr. Temple.”
Mr. Davenport took care to inquire of Nathan Middleton the extent of Tom’s property, when he accompanied him to the door, and went away with very different feelings toward him from those with which he entered.
“James,” said he, on his return home, “I fear you have been very rude to the young gentleman who is boarding at Mr. Middleton’s.”
“Young gentleman! He is a bully.”