“And it's a terrible thing to me,” went on Samuel. “I don't know just what to make of it—
“See here, Samuel!” demanded the other angrily. “Who sent you here to lecture me?”
“I don't see how it can be!” the boy exclaimed. “You are one of the fit people, as Professor Stewart explained it to me; and yet I know some who are better than you, and who have nothing at all.”
And Bertie Lockman, after another stare into the boy's solemn eyes, sank back in his chair and burst into laughter. “Look here, Samuel!” he exclaimed. “You aren't playing the game!”
“How do you mean, sir?”
“If I'm one of the fit ones, what right have you got to preach at me?”
Samuel was startled. “Why sir—” he stammered.
“Just look!” went on Bertie. “I'm the master, and you're the servant. I have breeding and culture—everything—and you're just a country bumpkin. And yet you presume to set your ideas up against mine! You presume to judge me, and tell me what I ought to do!”
Samuel was taken aback by this. He could not think what to reply.
“Don't you see?” went on Bertie, following up his advantage. “If you really believe what you say, you ought to submit yourself to me. If I say a thing's right, that makes it right. If I had to come to you to have you approve it, wouldn't that make you the master and me the servant?”