"
"I hope you don't think I care for that!" said John, snapping his
fingers. "He's welcome to his rubbishing books; they don't amount
to much, anyway. I don't believe they cost more than two dollars
at the most. If you'd like to see what I got for my essay, I'll
show you."
John pulled out his portemonnaie, and unrolled three new and
crisp bank-notes of ten dollars each.
"I think that's pretty good pay," he said, looking about him
triumphantly. "I don't care how many prizes Rathburn chooses to
give his favorite. I rather think I can get along without them."
John's face was turned toward the door, otherwise he would have
observed the approach of the teacher, and spoken with more
caution. But it was too late. The words had been spoken above his
ordinary voice, and were distinctly heard by the teacher. He
looked sharply at John Haynes, whose glance fell before his, but
without a word passed into the schoolroom.
"See if you don't get a blowing-up, John," said Dick Jones.
"What do I care!" said John, but in a tone too subdued to be
heard by any one else.
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