“Why?” demanded Smith.
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s done me one or two good turns lately.”
“What sort?”
“Well, he helped me in the Latin the other day, of his own accord, and—”
“Go on,” said Smith, impatiently.
“And he gave me a knife to-day. You know I lost mine, and he said he’d got two.”
Smith grunted.
“I’d like to catch him doing a good turn to me, that’s all,” said he. “I’d cure him of that!”
I didn’t like to hear Smith talk like this. For one thing, it sounded as if he must be a great deal less foolish than I was, which nobody likes to admit; and for another thing, it seemed wrong and unreasonable, unless for a very good cause, to persist in believing nothing good about anybody else.
So I changed the subject.