Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Prosperity; or, Toil Has Its Reward онлайн

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“What fine?”

“Ten dollars.”

“Then it is rather serious, for he fined you.”

“Oh, you are just beginning to realize there is something serious about it, are you!”

“I wish you wouldn’t blaze at me like that, Hodge. Anyone would imagine we were the bitterest of foes, instead of the firmest friends.”

“Friends! Ha, ha! Are we?”

“Are we?” echoed Merry, in amazement.

“Yes, are we?”

“Why, of course we are!”

“I don’t know about that. I have no friends. I wasn’t built to have friends. I believe I was intended for an Ishmael.”

“Now, drop that, Hodge!” commanded Frank, not a little shocked. “You were built for just what you choose to make yourself. If you select to become an outcast, you can do so.”

“That is what you believe. I don’t believe anything of the sort. I believe a fellow must be what he becomes. I believe everything is predestined, and, try as he may, no man can change the course that it has been destined that he must follow.”

“You are getting into a bad way, Hodge, for that is the argument of every evil-doer and criminal since the days of Cain.”