“Right you are.”
“Then for the millionaire boy,” grinned Aleck.
Norman Redfern became grave and thoughtful. No doubt his rather timid nature shrank from the interview which only the house-boat boys’ urging had induced him to seek. The disastrous end of his first engagement as a tutor, the subsequent loss of another post upon which he had set his heart and the discouraging search for a position, all served to increase his tendency to shrink from the hard knocks which the world sometimes deals out. Self-effacing, and with an almost over-developed sense for the rights of others, the game of life was a much more serious matter to him than to one like the lively, courageous Bob Somers.
Colonel Ellison, George Clayton’s guardian, had none of these traits. He was a large man, with a big voice; aggressive, strictly honest, stubborn—one of that type who rises superior to any situation, and who has very little sense of the rights of others.
So Norman’s heart misgave him; but his lively companions served to encourage and cheer him, and keep alive his reawakened determination to assert his rights.
“Jolly curious to meet the millionaire boy,” remarked Jack. “Hope he won’t be too stuck up to notice us in this rig. We don’t look any too stylish, you know.”
“He isn’t that kind,” said Norman. “He is a fine lad; but of course you must remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“His surroundings and life of ease and luxury have formed certain characteristics which are only to be expected. Perhaps, if you didn’t know him well, he might be considered a trifle overbearing—a bit set upon having his own way. But, in the main, his good traits more than counterbalance it.”
“I’ll bet he’s a silly chump, after all,” Joe whispered to Bob, a moment later, as they stood on the deck. “Norman’s an easy, good-natured chap, and would like ’most anybody. Gee whiz, but the river’s wide, eh?”