"
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?"
"No, no--Master Albert!" protested Samuel. "I didn't mean quite that!"
"Why, I might just as well give you my money and be done with it,"
insisted the other.
"Then you could fix everything up to suit yourself."
"That isn't what I mean at all!" cried the boy in great distress. "I
don't know how to answer you, sir--but there's a wrong in it."
"But where? How?"
"Master Albert," blurted Samuel--"it can't be right for you to get
drunk!"
Bertie's face clouded.
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