“Do, eh? Well, maybe, maybe. We’re all likely to think that of another person who won’t do what we want him to.”
“I wish you’d think it over, sir,” said Jack wistfully.
Farmer Finkler gazed thoughtfully between Dick’s ears.
“Don’t know but what I’d be willing to do it if those young rascals were all like you, boy. But they’ve been making my life miserable for five or six years and I guess I ain’t ready to cry quits yet. Sometime when you ain’t got anything better to do you come over and see me and I’ll show you some good horses. Guess you and me can be friends anyway, eh!”
[“Thank you,” replied Jack stiffly, “but I guess I’ll stand with my friends, sir.] Perhaps some day you’ll find out that we aren’t quite as bad as you think us. I’m very much obliged for the ride, Mr. Finkler.”
[“‘Thank you,’ replied Jack stiffly, ‘but I guess I’ll stand with my friends, sir.’”]
“Huh!” The farmer touched Dick with the whip and the buggy whisked away up the road. Jack stood a moment at the gate and looked after it.
“I wonder,” he said to himself, “if I didn’t make a mistake then. Maybe I’d have done better if I’d stayed friends with him. But he certainly is—is—exasperating!”