Jacob Simmons had received his first lesson at his new employment. Fred's ready way of imparting instruction did much to facilitate his progress. After the cloth had been placed on the machine and everything fixed for a long run, Fred left him to watch it and keep it in its proper place, while he went up to the other room to give attention to that portion of the business.
Once alone he had a chance to think, unhindered by the presence of any one.
"What does it all mean?" he said to himself. "Mr. Simmons actually turned pale when he saw me—seemed stunned for a minute. Yes, he even stepped back as if he were afraid of me. There must be some cause for this," he meditated, "and I do wonder what it is."
The idea clung to him. The more he thought upon it and studied the man, the more he became impressed that something was wrong—that Mr. Simmons for some reason dreaded meeting him. What this cause could be was the question to be solved.
Not many days after Jacob commenced work in the factory, Fred made a discovery that at once aroused his suspicions and turned his thoughts in quite another direction, for previously he had believed that Jacob's aversion to him was due to some personal matter; but now he had a clue that led to a different belief, and one that might clear up a great mystery which had not long since thrown its shadow over himself.
"Do you know Mr. Simmons yet?" asked Fred of Jack Hickey.
"Well, I spakes to him now an' thin. But why do ye ask, me b'y?"
"I want you to do me a favor."
"Sure an' I will do that inny time for ye."
"Thank you, Jack. I want you to borrow Mr. Simmons' knife and manage to keep it till I can see it, but don't breathe a word of this to him or anyone."
Jack promised secrecy, and went about making friends with Mr. Simmons. In due time he secured the knife, and when Jacob was out of the room, called Fred to him and handed him the desired article.
Our hero's face lighted up triumphantly as he took it and examined it closely.
"The very one," he exclaimed. "I knew it the minute I saw it in his hands," referring to Mr. Simmons.
"Is ye crazy?" asked Jack. "By St. Patrick, ye act as if ye had found an ould friend."
"Yes—or—I mean it is just the knife I want," answered Fred, coloring and trying to show less concern. "I wish you would buy it for me. I will pay whatever he asks, but don't let him know I want it."
"And what fer, me b'y, do ye want it so much?"
"I cannot tell you just yet."
"And why not?"
"You shall know all about it after a while, but I must say nothing now."
"Some myshtery about it, I'd sthake my reputashen."
"Well, I surely cannot prevent your guessing about it, Jack. But don't fail to obtain it for me."
"Sure and ye shall have it if he will take a dacent price for it."
"Don't stand on the price," said Fred, whose anxiety to procure it was most manifest.
Jack was impressed by Fred's manner that the knife was wanted for some important evidence, and he argued that something must be wrong or Fred would go to Mr. Simmons himself and buy the knife if he wanted it simply for pocket use.
His curiosity was aroused, and his ingenuity was taxed to know how to get the knifewithout arousing Jacob's suspicion if there really was any secret attached to it.
He reasoned that possession was a strong point in his favor. He had it now, and finally decided to keep it if he could once get it home. He thought he could easily make some excuse to gain time. He had taken a great liking to Fred, and was willing to strain a point of propriety to serve him, and as there was a mystery surrounding the knife he felt impelled by his own curiosity to hold fast to it for the present.
As good luck would have it Jacob did not miss the knife before the closing hour that night. This enabled Jack to take it home with him, where he put it under lock and key.
The next day he apologized to Mr. Simmons for leaving it at home, spoke of its being a superior knife, and finally touched upon the subject of buying it.
After much parleying he succeeded in effecting a trade, but had to pay down a handsome price. Jacob evidently felt some apprehension about letting it go, but four dollars looked so large to him that he could not let the offer pass unaccepted, especially as he thought he was getting the best of the bargain.
Jack informed Fred of his success. The latter was much pleased, and after thanking him for the favor, said:
"Now, Jack, I want you to examine the knife carefully before handing it to me. I want to be able to prove how it came into my possession. You may be called upon to testify that you bought it from Mr. Simmons, so you must be able to identify it positively."
Dr. Dutton was a wealthy man and often loaned money to his neighbors on security. Jacob Simmons had recently built an extension to his house. This cost more money than he expected, as is usually the case, so he found himself cramped for funds.
He had not been in the factory long enough to draw any salary, and being forced to raise the money, he now came to Dr. Dutton to try and get it from him.
"What security can you give?" asked the doctor.
"I can give you my note," replied Mr. Simmons.
"With a mortgage?" suggested the doctor.
"No, I don't want to give a mortgage, but I have a certificate for two hundred dollars' worth of stock in the Central Valley Railroad;" taking a lot of papers from his pocket book.
"Let me see it."
"It is among some of these papers," Simmons replied, sorting them in his lap. "Ah, here it is."
"Yes, this will do," said the doctor, after examining it closely. "Nellie, hand me my note book," he added, turning to his daughter.
She quickly placed the book in her father's hand, and he filled out a note for Mr. Simmons to sign. When this had been done the money was paid over, and Jacob left the house, feeling quite elated at his success in raising the loan so easily.
Little did he think of the position in which he had placed himself through his careless handling of his papers, and of the trouble that would follow, not only to himself, but to others whom he had promised to shield.
Soon after he had gone, and the doctor had passed into another room, Nellie raised her eyes from the book she was reading and noticed a small piece of paper upon the floor near the chair where Mr. Simmons had sat.
She picked it up, and glancing at it hastily, saw it contained Fred Worthington's name.
She could not refrain from reading it through, and as she read she shuddered with fear at the thought of what might have been.
She hastened to her father and mother with the paper for them to read.
"Extraordinary!" exclaimed the doctor, although he now knew something of Matthew De Vere's character. "Where did you get this?"
"I found it on the floor near where Mr. Simmons sat," replied Nellie.
"He must have accidentally dropped it."
"Yes, but isn't it awful?"
"It is, indeed; but there seems little doubt of its being genuine, as here are the names signed to it. Is this Matthew's writing?"
"Yes, I think so. It looks exactly like it," replied Nellie.
"It was a bold act of villainy, and his father should know it," continued the doctor thoughtfully.
"I can't think Matthew is so bad as that shows," said Mrs. Dutton.
"Do you know the cause of their quarrel, Nellie?" asked her father.
She hesitated. The question was especially embarrassing to her.
"I think Matthew has some grudge against Fred," she replied, evading a direct answer.
"I should think he must have, and for what, I wonder?"
"Fred could tell you all about it, I think, if you would have him call this evening," said Nellie artfully, both to save further questioning and to have a pretext for inviting him to call. "He may know something about this paper."
"I think that would be the best plan," said Mrs. Dutton.
"Perhaps it would," answered her husband.
"I will write him a note, then, asking him to call this evening," ventured Nellie.
Her father nodded assent. This gave her a thrill of pleasure. At last she could invite Fred to call and could surprise him with the facts she had in her possession.
During the afternoon Fred received a neatly written note from Nellie, simply asking him to call that evening. It was so brief, and so entirely unexpected, he was puzzled to know what it meant. At any rate, he was delighted at the thought of seeing his friend once more, and in her own home, too—let her object be what it would.
He concluded, after much speculation, that it must be favorable, for he could not possibly imagine why she should want him to call if it were otherwise.
They had hardly met since the night of the party, when they parted company at her home after a most enjoyable evening. Then each felt more than an ordinary regard for the friendship of the other, and doubtless little imagined that it would be so suddenly broken in upon by the suspicious circumstances that speedily surrounded Fred. This, together with De Vere's efforts to establish himself in Nellie's good opinion, had separated them.
Among all the trials and misfortunes that had come upon him, Fred found this change in Nellie's manner touched him in a way that nothing else had done. Why this should be so, he was at a loss to know, for he had looked upon her simply as a friend.
And with Nellie, his absence for weeks, when she had seen him almost daily from childhood up, made her lonely. She wondered why she thought so often of him, and why she should have felt a sense of jealousy when he said Grace was a better friend to him than she, and again when she called and told with such evident pleasure of Fred's triumph at the trial.
There also were the beautiful flowers he had sent, from which she selected a delicate white rose, which she had worn upon her breast till it withered, and then had pressed it in a book and put it carefully away where it would be preserved.
All these thoughts occurred to her while she was sick at heart—all these, and many more, regarding Fred's kindness and agreeable manners. She thought of the party, of their delightful walk home after it was over, of the attention he had shown her and of the complimentary remark that she "had given him the pleasantest evening of his life."
Then she wondered why she should think of these things, "for he is nothing to me," shetried to persuade herself; but the thoughts seemed too deeply impressed upon her mind to be driven away, and clinging as they did they made their influence felt.
Yes, she admitted to herself that Fred's society was much more agreeable to her than that of any of the other boys—but why? Well, she began to suspect the cause, and if you had been her trusted friend, the one to whom she told her secrets—if she ever did so foolish a thing—she might have said in confidence that—well, never mind what she would have said, for being yet but a girl of sixteen she could only have called him afriend.
"Good evening, Fred. I am very glad to see you," said Nellie, as she opened the door and he stepped in.
"I am glad to hear you say so, and I am sure this is an unexpected pleasure to me," replied Fred, taking her proffered hand, which he retained longer than perhaps was really necessary.
"I hope, then, you will not find the call a stupid one."
"Oh, I have no fear of that."
"You must not be too sure, Fred, for father has just been summoned to attend a patient, and mother has a caller, so you will have to put up with my entertainment for a while," replied Nellie, showing him into the library.
"That will be most agreeable to me," returned Fred, taking a seat not far from his hostess.
"I shall try and not offend you, for you are such a stranger."
"Yes, it seems an age since I have seen you, Nellie," replied our young friend in a way that convinced her he meant every word he said.
"Has it, really?"
"It has, indeed."
"I was afraid you had almost forgotten me."
"Oh, no; I could not do that easily."
"Well, Fred, I am sure the time could not have seemed longer to you than it has to me," replied Nellie, after a pause, and dropping her eyes as she realized the expression she had thrown into the remark.
Fred's heart beat quicker.
"Have you really missed me?" he asked, feeling happier than he had for weeks.
"If you doubt what I say, how can I convince you?"
"No, no, I don't doubt you now, Nellie."
"Why do you say now? Have you ever doubted my word?"
"No, I did not mean that."
"I hope you will explain, so I shall not feel uncomfortable."
Fred hesitated, hardly knowing how to reply.
"Nellie, it seems like the old days to meet youagain," he finally answered, "and I shrink from thinking of the past weeks when I could hardly help doubting nearly every one's friendship."
"I am so sorry for you, and I hope you will forgive me for not being more friendly," replied Nellie tenderly.
"I forgive you cheerfully, though I did feel hurt at the time."
"I saw that only too plainly by your letter, which brought me to my senses; but it was unkind in me to do as I did."
"No, not exactly unkind, as nearly every one supposed me guilty."
"But I ought not to have been so hasty, for there are always two sides to a question, and I did not wait to hear yours."
"You have not heard it yet, and still you overlook the charge made against me."
"Of course I do."
"But it has never been explained away."
"Oh, that was not what troubled me, but—well, nothing ought to have troubled me," answered Nellie, slightly confused.
"The intoxication she means," thought Fred, and the color rose to his face.
Nellie observed this, and was sorry she had said what she did.
"As I wrote you, I could have explained it fully to you. I know what you mean."
"I did not intend to refer to that unfortunate affair," said Nellie, with sympathy.
"It pains me to think of it, but I shall be glad to have you understand it."
"It was a great surprise to me, Fred, and being right here seemed awful, but since receiving your letter I have suspected Matthew De Vere might have had something to do with it."
"Have you thought so?"
"Yes; was I right?"
"Yes, Nellie, you were; but I did wrong in following him."
"Will you not tell me all about it?"
Fred went over the matter of his intoxication, and explained everything truthfully, while Nellie listened with interest and astonishment.
Fred's story was a surprising revelation to Nellie Dutton, who now, for the first time, saw Matthew De Vere's conduct in its true light.
"How could he be so mean?" she exclaimed.
"It was his revenge," replied Fred.
"Why did you not speak of his treachery?"
"I thought it best not to till I could get proof of it, for if I had he would have denied it."
"He ought to have been punished."
"He will be in time, I think."
"I hope so; but that will not make up for all you have suffered. So he was the means of your losing your position in the store?"
"Yes."
"I will never speak to him again!" said Nellie indignantly. "He is too mean."
"I felt sure the time would come when you would say so," replied Fred.
The color came to Nellie's face.
"Yes?" she answered, after a pause.
Fred saw that she was slightly embarrassed, and knew she was thinking of the somewhat sarcastic letter he had sent her.
"Nellie, I hope you will forget my letter," he said.
"I should be glad to, if I could."
"I am sorry I sent it."
"I am sorry you had cause to send it."
"I was hasty; but it is past now. I hope you will not let it trouble you."
"If I will forget the letter, will you forget what caused you to send it?"
"I shall be only too glad to do so."
"Truly?"
"Here is my hand on it."
"Shall we now be as good friends as ever?" asked Nellie, as she withdrew her hand.
"I sincerely hope so, and—even better," he added hesitatingly.
Nellie's eyes dropped, and a sweet blush stole over her face.
"We were very good friends before, I thought," she answered.
"So we were, but—but—well, I shall prize your friendship more highly since learning how much I missed it."
Nellie now brought her fan into requisition.
"And you will never write me any more sarcastic letters?"
"No."
Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Dutton.
"Ah! good evening, Fred. I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but I hope Nellie has entertained you well."
Fred arose, blushed, and took the doctor's hand. Why he blushed he didn't know, but he could feel his cheeks burn.
"Oh, yes, I have been well entertained, thank you, but I didn't realize that I was waiting for you."
"Why, didn't Nellie tell you?"
"No, sir."
"I forgot to say you wanted to see him, we were so busy talking," put in Nellie.
"Oh, that's it; well, all right. But, Fred, I have been hearing good reports of you," the doctor continued.
"I am glad to know that, and I hope I merit them," replied Fred modestly.
"I think there is no doubt of it."
"It is refreshing to hear you say so after knowing all the bad reports that have been circulated against me during the last few weeks."
"Never mind, my boy; you have stood the fire nobly, and are surely winning the fight."
Fred's heart leaped with joy at these reassuring words from the doctor.
"Do you think so?" he said, at length.
"There is very little doubt of it, and I think I have a surprise for you," taking from hispocket the paper Nellie had found and placing it in Fred's hands.
Our young hero quickly ran his eye over it, and was amazed at its contents. It read thus:
Mapleton, November 17th, 187—.Matthew De Vere and me was waitin' near the old Booker barn to club Fred Worthington. Matthew hired me to help him. We both had a club. 'Twas 'bout twelve o'clock in the night I gess. Matthew sed he was goin' to get square with Fred. Matthew told me to strike him on the leg, and he sed he would do the efecktive work and fix him so he wouldn't interfear with him any more. When you come along we darted on you thinking you was Fred. I hit you a hard clip on the leg. Matthew was reddy to strike you on the head, but saw his mistake and stopped jest in time and ran away.(Signed)Tim Short.The above statement is true.Matthew De Vere.
Mapleton, November 17th, 187—.
Matthew De Vere and me was waitin' near the old Booker barn to club Fred Worthington. Matthew hired me to help him. We both had a club. 'Twas 'bout twelve o'clock in the night I gess. Matthew sed he was goin' to get square with Fred. Matthew told me to strike him on the leg, and he sed he would do the efecktive work and fix him so he wouldn't interfear with him any more. When you come along we darted on you thinking you was Fred. I hit you a hard clip on the leg. Matthew was reddy to strike you on the head, but saw his mistake and stopped jest in time and ran away.
(Signed)Tim Short.
The above statement is true.
Matthew De Vere.
"Have you ever seen this paper before?" asked the doctor.
"No, sir, never."
"Knew nothing of it?"
"No, sir."
"You little realized, then, how near you came to being waylaid and——" but the doctor didn't finish the sentence.
"I never had the slightest suspicion of it."
"It was a bold plot."
"And a wicked one," added Mrs. Dutton, who had now joined the group in the library.
"But what kept you out so late that night?" asked the doctor.
Fred examined the date of Mr. Simmons' paper.
"It was the night of Grace Bernard's party."
"Yes, so it was—I remember the date now; but in going from Mr. Bernard's to your home you could not pass the old Booker barn."
Fred's face grew suddenly red. The temperature of the room seemed to him suffocatingly warm. He stood on one foot, embarrassed, trying to think how to explain.
His color very strangely seemed to be reflected upon Nellie's cheeks. Just then she appeared to be much interested in the evening paper, and held it much nearer to her eyes than was her custom.
"You shouldn't ask so many questions," said Mrs. Dutton to her husband, smiling at the young folks' embarrassment.
"Ah, ha! I see now. Jealousy, was it?"
"It looks like it," answered Fred comically, whereupon the doctor and his wife laughed heartily, and, the ice being broken, Nellie and Fred joined in the merriment, though it was at their own expense.
"Well," said the doctor seriously, "this paper records a very grave matter. The boys should be punished."
"Why, I wonder, didn't Mr. Simmons have them punished?" asked Nellie.
"The case looks suspicious," answered her father.
"He has never reported it, or we should have heard of it," said Mrs. Dutton.
Fred rested his head on his hand in deep thought.
"He must have had some object in getting this paper," he at length answered. "It looks to me as though he had been bribed—been paid to keep the matter a secret."
"That seems very probable," answered the doctor.
"Would Matthew's father have paid Mr. Simmons anything for such a purpose?"
"No, indeed. He would be the last man imaginable to allow himself to be fleeced in such a way."
"I thought so; but now, supposing our theory of the bribing is the correct one, how and where could the boys have got the money to pay him?"
"They couldn't have got it at home."
"Do you feel sure of that?"
"I am almost certain."
"Mr. Simmons could have brought a strong pressure to bear upon them."
"However strong, Mr. De Vere would never have paid one cent. But he would have punished Matthew unmercifully."
"You have never known of his being punished?"
"No."
"Would any one outside of the family probably have known it?"
"I think so."
A theory concerning this matter had suggested itself to Fred, and he was working it out like a young logician.
"Suppose," he continued, "Mr. Simmons should have forced the boys to do something toward paying him, and Matthew dare not speak to his father and mother about it, what would have been the result?"
"I can hardly imagine," returned the doctor.
"I think they would have got it from some other source by some other means," said Nellie.
Fred's face brightened. This was the answer that seemed natural to him, and he was pleased that Nellie should be the one to give it.
"That is my idea," he replied.
"Why, Fred, you talk exactly like a lawyer," remarked Mrs. Dutton.
"Oh, I don't know about that," he laughed, "but this paper has strengthened a suspicion that I have had for a little time—strengthened it so much that I feel almost convinced I am right since hearing what the doctor says about this matter."
"What is your theory, Fred?" asked Dr. Dutton, with interest.
"I think I may as well take you all into my confidence," answered our hero.
"And why not?" replied the doctor.
"Of course you will, Fred," said Nellie.
"Yes, I think you can help me in working up the case."
"We will surely do all we can," said Dr. Dutton. "But what is the nature of your suspicion?"
"It is so grave a matter I hate to breathe it to any one till I have further proof, therefore I must ask you all to keep it strictly confidential."
"It shall be treated as such," replied Dr. Dutton.
"I think it probable," said Fred, "that John Rexford's store was robbed and burned, and it is not altogether impossible that it was done to raise this money for Mr. Simmons."
"Oh, that can't be so," returned the doctor, amazed at the thought.
"There are reasons that lead me to think so."
"And Matthew might have done it to try and injure you," put in Nellie, as she thought how far De Vere had carried his malice.
"That might be so," replied Fred, "but I reason from the belief that Matthew was forced to raise the money."
"Is that the only point on which you found your theory?" asked Dr. Dutton.
"No, sir. I thought something was wrong when Jacob Simmons first met me in the mill. He seemed fairly startled on seeing me. I decided then to keep my eyes open. In a few days I saw him use a peculiar knife—called a mechanic's pocket knife—which is in itself quite a kit of tools. I managed to have Jack Hickey borrow it so I could examine it. The minute I had it in my hands I recognized it as the very one that was in Mr. Rexford's show case when I left his store. It was an expensive knife, and I don't believe Simmons ever bought it.
"That is a good piece of evidence, surely," replied the doctor, "but can you get the knife when you need it?"
"I have bought it," and he explained his method of obtaining it. "Moreover," continued Fred, "I remember when I was tried for burning Mr. Rexford's store, Matthew and Tim were both present. They sat together and showed a very keen interest in the trial, and when it wentin my favor, their disappointment was plainly to be seen."
"Did it occur to you then that they possibly had anything to do with burning the store?"
"No, but knowing what I do now, it seems to me probable. This paper furnishes just the evidence I was waiting for."
"I admire your bold reasoning, Fred," said the physician.
"His theory seems plausible," added Mrs. Dutton, "though I can't believe Matthew would think of doing such an act."
Fred felt much pleased at the good impression he was evidently making upon Nellie's parents.
"I may be entirely wrong," he replied, "but I have sufficient confidence in the idea to feel warranted in testing the matter."
"I would advise you to do so," said the doctor.
Presently Fred arose to go, and after receiving a cordial invitation from the doctor and his wife to call often, and a cheerful good night from Nellie, he withdrew, happy over the warm welcome given him, and full of enthusiasm in his purpose to bring the guilty parties to justice.
He first went home and got the knife in question, and then made his way straight to Mr. Rexford's room, where he found him alone.
"Good evening, Mr. Rexford," said Fred heartily.
"Good evening," returned the merchant, wondering what the boy's object could be in calling.
This was the first time they had met alone to speak since the trouble at the store when Fred was discharged.
"I suppose you have learned nothing new relative to the cause of your store's burning," remarked our hero.
"No, nothing."
"You were not very generous with your old clerk to have him arrested, charged with such an act."
The merchant winced.
"I think I have a chance now to do you a favor in return for your generosity," continued Fred.
This sarcasm cut deeply, but there was something about the boy's manner that kept the merchant from answering angrily.
"What is it?" he at length asked.
"I have a clue that would perhaps lead to the arrest of the parties who plundered and burned your store."
Rexford's interest was now fully aroused.
"Have you?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes, and I have sufficient evidence, I think, to warrant you in making an arrest."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes, there is no doubt of it."
Fred now took the knife from his pocket and passed it to his former employer.
The merchant recognized it instantly by its peculiar handle. He said, in answer to Fred's questions, that the knife had not been sold, and that it must have been taken from his show case the night of the fire. He remembered showing it that evening to a customer, and distinctly recollected putting it back into the show case.
This, then, constituted a strong piece of evidence to show that the store was robbed.
Fred then explained how the knife came into his possession.
"You have worked up the case skilfully," said Mr. Rexford.
"I hope I have made no mistakes," answered Fred.
"You have shown care and ingenuity, and have succeeded in getting very strong evidence. This is better than Sheriff Coombs has done."
"I have other evidence also in my possession that makes this much stronger," replied our hero, and he showed Mr. Rexford the paper that Nellie Dutton had found, and gave him his theory of the robbery.
"I agree with you fully. It looks very reasonable," said the merchant, whose enthusiasm was well aroused. "I can hardly wait till morning before taking action in the matter."
Mr. Rexford was very grateful to our young friend for the trouble he had taken in working up this case.
"It hardly seems possible, Fred, that you should do so much for me, after being treated as you were by me," he said warmly.
"I hope I have been able to do you a favor," returned Fred sincerely; "and besides, it may prove of service to me."
"You have, indeed, done me a favor. And is this the way you seek revenge?"
"I think it is the best sort of revenge."
"I believe you, Fred; but very few ever practise it."
"It is more satisfactory in the end, and moreover is right."
"Very true, but it is hard to act upon such a theory. Suppose Simmons is guilty, should I forgive him and do him a kindness?"
"That would be quite a different case. His act would be crime, and should, therefore, be punished. You could feel sorry for him, though, that he had acted so unwisely."
"Yes, I think you are right," answered the merchant mechanically, while his mind seemed to be struggling with another problem.
"Fred, I have wronged you cruelly," he continued, "and your generous spirit has touched me as nothing else has since I was a boy like yourself. I discharged you, practically accusing you of dishonesty, but now I know you were innocent. Your reputation was so injured that you could get no position in a store, and were obliged to seek employment in the factory. Then I had you arrested, charged with the grave offense of burning my store. Can you forgive me, Fred, for having wronged you so?"
"I can and will do so cheerfully," answered our hero, "for I believe you acted from your honest belief at the time."
"Yes, I did, but I should have had more charity, and more consideration for your welfare."
"It was a hard blow to me, I assure you. But tell me, have you found the missing money?" asked Fred eagerly.
"Yes. It was not lost; and the amount—eighteen dollars—was right. The error was in making change. It was my own mistake. An eccentric old fellow, a farmer up in Martintown, had the money—the very same twenty dollar bill. He said he gave me a five dollar bill and I handed back the twenty dollar bill in change."
"Farmers usually count their change very carefully."
"Yes, and it seems he counted this after he got home. He said he put the bill by itself in his wallet to keep until he had occasion to come this way again."
"When did you learn about it?"
"Two or three weeks ago."
"And you have known it all this time and said nothing about it?"
"Yes, Fred. Almost every day I have decided to send for you and explain all as I am doing now, but I dreaded meeting you and kept putting it off from day to day. I felt so guilty over my treatment of you, and so humiliated when I found the error was my own, that I had not the courage to tell you about it. Yet I knew all the time that I was adding more and more to the wrong I had done you."
"I can imagine how you feel about it," said Fred, "and your apology makes it all right. If the old farmer had returned the money earlier, much of this trouble might have been saved. He ought to have written you about it at any rate. It was fortunate he was an honest man; otherwise we should never have solved the mystery, and the stain would have clung to me always."
"Yes, Fred, I am afraid it would. But all suspicion is removed from you now. This showsof what vital importance honesty, even in small matters, may prove to an individual."
"I can realize that now, as it applies so forcibly to my own case."
"I hope to make amends for some of the great wrong I have done you," said Mr. Rexford, whose heart seemed to show a tender side which it had not appeared hitherto to possess. "My store will be rebuilt within a few weeks, and you shall have your old position as clerk again, if you wish."
"You are very kind, Mr. Rexford. I am glad to know that I may work for you again. If I come I will let you know in time."
"The position is due you, and I never had a clerk who did his work so well. I hope you will decide to come with me," said the merchant, as Fred rose to go.