Grit. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "Is that remark a compliment to me—or him?" asked Marion, laughing.

      "To you, decidedly."

      "Well, Phil can be very disagreeable when he sets out to be. I should not want to be that, you know."

      "You couldn't," said Grit, with an admiring glance.

      "That's a compliment," said Marion. "But you're mistaken. I can be disagreeable when I set out to be. I expect Phil finds me so sometimes."

      "I wouldn't."

      "You know how to flatter as well as to row, Mr. Grit. It's true. I tease Phil awfully sometimes."

      By this time Phil came back with a new hat on his head, holding Grit's in the tips of his fingers, as if it would contaminate him. He pitched it into Grit's lap, saying shortly:

      "There's your hat."

      "Upon my word, Phil, you're polite," said his cousin. "Can't you thank Mr. Grit?"

      "Mr. Grit!" repeated Phil contemptuously. "Of course I thank him."

      "You're welcome," answered Grit dryly.

      "Here's your fare!" said Phil, taking out two dimes, and offering them to the young boatman.

      "Thank you."

      "Phil, you ought to pay something extra for the loan of the hat," said Marion, "and the delay."

      With evident reluctance Phil took a nickel from his vest pocket, and offered it to Grit.

      "No, thank you!" said Grit, drawing back, "I wouldn't be willing to take anything for that. I've found it very agreeable to wait," and he glanced significantly at Marion.

      "I suppose I am to consider that another compliment," said the young lady, with a coquettish glance.

      "What, has he been complimenting you?" asked Phil jealously.

      "Yes, and it was very agreeable, as I got no compliments from you. Good afternoon, Mr. Grit. I hope you will row us back by and by."

      "I hope so, too," said the young boatman, bowing.

      "Look here, Marion," said Phil, as they walked away, "you take altogether too much notice of that fellow."

      "Why do I? I am sure he is a very nice boy."

      "He is a common working boy!" snapped Phil. "He lives with his mother in a poor hut upon the bluff, and makes his living by boating."

      "I am sure that is to his credit."

      "Oh, yes, I suppose it is. So's a ditch-digger engaged in a creditable employment, but you don't treat him as an equal."

      "I should be willing to treat Grit as an equal. He is very good-looking, don't you think so, Phil?"

      "Good-looking! So is a cow good-looking."

      "I've seen some cows that were very good-looking," answered Marion, with a mischievous smile. "I suppose Grit and you are well acquainted."

      "Oh, I know him to speak to him," returned Phil loftily. "Of course, I couldn't be intimate with such a boy."

      "I was thinking," said Marion, "it would be nice to invite him round to the house to play croquet with us."

      "Invite Grit Morris?" gasped Phil.

      "Yes, why not?"

      "A boy like him!"

      "Why, wouldn't he behave well?"

      "Oh, I suppose he would, but he isn't in our circle."

      "Then it's a pity he isn't. He's the most agreeable boy I have met in Chester."

      "You say that only to provoke me."

      "No, I don't. I mean it."

      "I won't invite him," said Phil doggedly. "I am surprised that you should think of such a thing."

      "Propriety, Miss Marion, propriety!" said the young lady, in a tone of mock dignity, turning up the whites of her eyes. "That's just the way my governess used to talk. It's well I've got so experienced a young gentleman to look after me, and see that I don't stumble into any impropriety."

      Meanwhile, Grit sat in his boat, waiting for a return passenger, and as he waited he thought of the young lady he had just ferried over.

      "I can't see how such a fellow as Phil Courtney can have such a nice cousin," he said to himself. "She's very pretty, too! She isn't stuck-up, like him. I hope I shall get the chance of rowing them back."

      He waited about ten minutes, when he saw a gentleman and a little boy approaching the river.

      "Are you the ferry-boy?" asked the gentleman.

      "Yes, sir."

      "I heard there was a boy who would row me across. I want to go to Chester with my little boy. Can you take us over?"

      "Yes, sir; I shall be happy to do so."

      "Are you ready to start?"

      "Yes, sir, just as soon as you get into the boat."

      "Come, Willie," said the gentleman, addressing his little boy, "won't you like to ride over in the boat?"

      "Oh, yes, papa," answered Willie eagerly.

      "I hope you are well acquainted with rowing, and careful," said Mr. Jackson, for this was his name. "I am rather timid about the water, for I can't swim."

      "Yes, sir, I am as much at home on the water as on the land. I've been rowing every day for the last three years."

      The gentleman and his little boy sat down, and Grit bent to his oars.

      CHAPTER IV.

      A BOY IN THE WATER

      Mr. Jackson was a slender, dark-complexioned man of forty, or thereabouts. He was fashionably dressed, and had the air of one who lives in a city. He had an affable manner, and seemed inclined to be social.

      "Is this your business, ferrying passengers across the river?" he asked of Grit.

      "Yes, sir," answered the young boatman.

      "Does it pay?" was the next inquiry—an important one in the eyes of a city man.

      "Yes, sir; I make more in this way than I could in any other."

      "How much, for instance?"

      "From five to seven dollars. Once—it was Fourth of July week—I made nearly ten dollars."

      "That is a great deal more than I made at your age," said Mr. Jackson.

      "You look as if you made more now," said Grit, smiling.

      "Yes," said the passenger, with an answering smile. "I am afraid I couldn't get along on that sum now."

      "Do you live in the city?" СКАЧАТЬ