"Stop there! you vil--er--insinuating rascal," yelled the proprietor, in a rage, his limbs and features twitching nervously. "Do you mean to say that I cheat my customers, and----" "Yes, that is just what I mean," replied Fred firmly. "I'll have you arrested at once. I won't be insulted by such a scamp!" "Be careful whom you call a scamp!" said Fred, while Rexford again edged off. "I'd like to have you arrest me, for then I could tell things about you and your store that would make a stir in this village! What if some of the folks find out that the XXX St. Louis brand of flour, for which they pay you ten dollars a barrel, is a cheap grade that you bought in plain barrels and stamped yourself? Now do you want to arrest me? If you do there are many other things I can tell, and I wouldn't pass your accounts by either. I know something of what has been going on here--more than you think, perhaps." These rapid and earnest utterances from young Worthington wrought a complete change in the merchant. They alarmed him, for he saw that the boy had the advantage, and out of policy he must stop matters before they became any worse. So he said, in a humble and subdued tone: "Fred, it's no use for us to quarrel about this. You know it is not proper for you to go outside and tell your employer's business, and----" "I know it is not, and I would only do so to defend myself; but when you threaten to keep my money, and to have me arrested, then I will show what kind of a man is trying to take advantage of me." "Very well, then, if I pay you your money, you will say nothing about the business of this store, I suppose?" "No, I will say nothing about what I have just mentioned, unless I should be put on trial; then, of course, I should be obliged to testify." "You will not be put on trial. I take you at your word--your word of honor," added the merchant impressively. "Yes, my word of honor!" repeated Fred, "and that means that your secrets are safe." The wily Rexford had now gained his point--Fred's promise--and he quickly changed front and cried: "Well, there's your money--fifteen dollars--now consider yourself discharged from my employ!" "'Discharged,' did you say, sir?" ejaculated Fred, utterly taken aback at this sudden turn of events. "I said 'discharged,'" repeated the merchant, fidgeting about; "you know what the word means, I presume?" Fred did know what it meant. It meant more than Rexford's narrow spirit could even comprehend. It meant disgrace, perhaps ruin. Fred took the money, the few bills, the last he would earn in the old store, and stood for a moment turning them over listlessly--evidently not counting them, but as if to aid him in solving the problem that rested heavily upon his mind. X "Isn't the money all right?" asked the merchant, finally. "Mr. Rexford," said Fred, not noticing the inquiry, "I want you to tell me if I lost my place on account of that missing bill."