He could not have done it, to save his life, but he managed to get fairly interested in “Ivanhoe” while Bar was studying.
Neither of the city boys had given a moment’s thought that day, as to the notions formed of them by the young gentlemen of the village, important as they were likely to find that very thing.
They might, indeed, have been surprised if they had known how very thoroughly they had been discussed, or how largely their arrival entered into the current plans and calculations of Zebedee Fuller and his friends.
“Now, Zeb,” said Hy Allen, as they sat on the log by the mill-dam after taking their accustomed swim, “we all know Val Manning well enough, and he wasn’t so very hard to manage.”
“Young aristocrat,” growled Zeb. “Thinks he’s a mile and a half above us Ogleport boys. And this new chap that’s come along with him, he’s ten times worse than Val. They’re boarding at Ma’am Wood’s, you know, and so’s Brayton. He’ll take ’em right in charge, and they’ll get in on everything ahead of us. Tell you what, boys, those fellows have got to have a setting down. Here they’ve bought the best boat on all Skanigo first day they got here.”
Perhaps, if the truth were told, Zeb’s jealousy was very much less on account of the boat, or good clothes, or even “citified ways,” after all, than because the objects of his dislikes were domiciled with George Brayton.
Somehow or other, Zeb had acquired a feeling of “ownership” for the new teacher, and was very much disposed to resent what looked like an invasion of his vested rights.
“There’s only two of ’em,” vaguely suggested Bill Jones.
“Don’t know how many are coming,” replied Zeb. “I move we take proper measures for the subjugation of these two before the rest get here.”
“I’m in for that!” exclaimed Hy Allen, whose somewhat pugnacious cast of features indicated very faithfully the character of their owner.