E BRIDGE.

The boy on the shore was Percy Paget, the squire's only son. He was a year
older than Ralph, and somewhat taller and heavier. His ways were arrogant
to the last degree, and in the village he had but few friends, and these
only because he generally had pocket money to spend.

On several occasions Ralph had had sharp words with Percy because the
latter wished to do as he pleased on the bridge, against the printed rules
that were posted up. Because his parent was squire, Percy imagined he could
do almost anything and it would be all right.

"I say, are you counting your fortune?" repeated Percy, throwing as much of
a sneer into his tones as possible.

"Unfortunately, I haven't any fortune to count, Percy," returned the young
bridge tender, good-naturedly.

"Humph! I suppose you mean that for a pun, don't you?" growled the son of
the squire. "If you do, let me tell you it's a mighty poor one."

"I hadn't intended to pun, Percy."

"I didn't think so, for you haven't the brains. Didn't I see you counting
some money just now?"

"I was looking at a bank bill."

"That you got on the bridge, I suppose?"

"No; it was a bill of my own."

"Oh, I thought you had to use all the money you made here."

"I have to use the most of it. My pay isn't any too large, as you know."

"Yes, but I guess you make enough besides," returned Percy, suggestively.

"What do you mean?"

"You've got plenty of chance on the bridge, with so many odd pennies coming
in."

"Do you mean to insinuate I steal the toll money?" demanded Ralph, angered
at the insinuation.

"I didn't say so," sneered the other, more suggestively than ever.

"But you meant it."

"Well, what if I did?"

"It's mean of you, Percy Paget! I never stole a cent in my life!"

"It's easy enough for you to say so."

"And it's true. You must think that every one is a thief just because
somebody was caught stealing tarts out of the bakery."

Ralph was angry, or he would not have spoken as he did. As Percy had been
discovered taking tarts and cakes from the counters of a pastry shop in
Eastport only a few weeks before, and as he had been threatened with arrest
for so doing, the squire's son reddened at once.

"See here, Ralph Nelson, don't you dare to talk to me like that!" he
stormed.

"I have more grounds to talk than you, Percy Paget!"

"No, you haven't, you low upstart!"

"Hold on, Percy, I am no upstart!"

"Yes, you are. What was your father? O