Meanwhile Dean, with flushed and angry countenance, looked from one face to another, but everywhere he met looks of distrust. It was clear that the majority of the passengers believed him guilty. He understood now the nature of the plot against him, and the letter in his pocket would be a sufficient proof of it. But he did not wish to produce it. He chose rather to keep it on account of the evidence which it contained against Squire Bates. "What shall you do about it?" asked the old gentleman, who seemed to feel particularly hostile against Dean. "I don't know," answered Kirby hesitating. "The boy ought to be punished. If it were _my_ case, I would have him arrested." "No, I don't care to do that. He belongs to a respectable family." "Surely you won't keep him in your employ?" "No, I shall feel compelled to discharge him. Dean, you can leave the car at the next station. You are no longer in my employ. For the sake of your uncle and aunt, I shall not have you arrested, but I must decline to employ you any longer." "Very well, sir!" answered Dean. "If you will pay me what you owe me for services, I will leave you." "Pay you what I owe you!" replied Kirby, as if surprised. "Yes, sir; you promised me twenty-five dollars per month, and I have been with you three weeks." "You have received money from me at different times, and I owe you nothing. Besides, the jewelry which you have taken will amount to more than your wages." "Mr. Kirby, I have taken no jewelry, and you know it." "How can you tolerate the boy's impudence?" said the old man. Kirby shrugged his shoulders. "I have been very much deceived in him," he answered, "but I cherish no revengeful feelings. I hope he may see the error of his ways, and resolve to lead an honest life." "You are too merciful, sir." "It may be so, but he is young, and there is hope of his repentance." "Mr. Kirby, do I understand that you wish me to leave you?" asked Dean. "Yes. You had better get out at the next station. Here is a dollar. I don't want to leave you altogether penniless. Of course I must report what has happened to Squire Bates, who stood sponsor to you." The train began to slow up, for the next station was near at hand. "I don't want the dollar," said Dean. "I understand your object in accusing me of theft. I could clear myself now if I chose, but I am willing to wait." Dean rose from his seat, and with flushed cheeks and head erect walked to the end of the car, and stepped out on the platform. He stood there, and watched the departure of the train, bearing his late employer farther West. He did not even know the name of the station at which he had disembarked. CHAPTER XXII. A FRIEND—IN NEED.