“Lord love you, lad! so we do; but we love ourselves better.”
“Hardy would not have served me so, however,” said Loveit, turning away in disgust. Tarlton was alarmed. “Pugh!” said he; “what nonsense have you taken into your brain! Think no more about it. We are all very sorry, and beg your pardon; come, shake hands, forgive and forget.”
Loveit gave his hand, but gave it rather coldly. “I forgive it with all my heart,” said he; “but I cannot forget it so soon!”
“Why, then, you are not such a good humoured fellow as we thought you were. Surely you cannot bear malice, Loveit.” Loveit smiled, and allowed that he certainly could not bear malice. “Well, then, come; you know at the bottom we all love you, and would do anything in the world for you.” Poor Loveit, flattered in his foible, began to believe that they did love him at the bottom, as they said, and even with his eyes open consented again to be duped.
“How strange it is,” thought he, “that I should set such value upon the love of those I despise! When I’m once out of this scrape, I’ll have no more to do with them, I’m determined.”
Compared with his friend Hardy, his new associates did indeed appear contemptible; for all this time Hardy had treated him with uniform kindness, avoided to pry into his secrets, yet seemed ready to receive his confidence, if it had been offered.
After school in the evening, as he was standing silently beside Hardy, who was ruling a sheet of paper for him, Tarlton, in his brutal manner, came up, and seizing him by the arm, cried, “Come along with me, Loveit, I’ve something to say to you.”
“I can’t come now,” said Loveit, drawing away his arm.
“Ah, do come now,” said Tarlton, in a voice of persuasion.
“Well, I’ll come presently.”