“Don’t you ever get riled, Mr. Stark?” asked Leonard, laughing.
“Well, hardly ever. Sometimes when I am asked fool questions by one who seems to be prying into what is none of his business, I get wrathy, and when I’m roused look out !”
He glanced meaningly at Leonard, and the boy understood that the words conveyed a warning and a menace.
“Is anything the matter with you, Mr. Gibbon? Are you as well as usual?” asked Mr. Jennings one morning. The little man was always considerate, and he had noticed the flurried and nervous manner of his bookkeeper.
“No, sir; what makes you ask?” said Gibbon, apologetically.
“Perhaps you need a vacation,” suggested Mr. Jennings.
“Oh, no, I think not. Besides, I couldn’t be spared.”
“I would keep the books myself for a week to favor you.”
“You are very kind, but I won’t trouble you just yet. A little later on, if I feel more uncomfortable, I will avail myself of your kindness.”
“Do so. I know that bookkeeping is a strain upon the mind, more so than physical labor.”
There were special reasons why Mr. Gibbon did not dare to accept the vacation tendered him by his employer. He knew that Phil Stark would be furious, for it would interfere with his designs. He could not afford to offend this man, who held in his possession a secret affecting his reputation and good name.
The presence of a stranger in a small town always attracts public attention, and many were curious about the rakish-looking man who had now for some time occupied a room at the hotel.
Among others, Carl had several times seen him walking with Leonard Craig
“Leonard,” he asked one day, “who is the gentleman I see you so often walking with?”
“It’s a man that’s boarding at the hotel. I play billiards with him sometimes.”
“He seems to like Milford.”
“I don’t know. He’s over at our house every evening.”
“Is he?” asked Carl, surprised.
“Yes; he’s an old acquaintance of Uncle Julius. I don’t know where they met each other, for he won’t tell. He said he and uncle might go into business together some time. Between you and me, I think uncle would like to get rid of him. I know he doesn’t like him.”
This set Carl to thinking, but something occurred soon afterwards that impressed him still more.
Occasionally a customer of the house visited Milford, wishing to give a special order for some particular line of goods. About this time a Mr. Thorndike, from Chicago, came to Milford on this errand, and put up at the hotel. He had called at the factory during the day, and had some conversation with Mr. Jennings. After supper a doubt entered the mind of the manufacturer in regard to one point, and he said to Carl: “Carl, are you engaged this evening?”
“No, sir.”
“Will you carry a note for me to the hotel?”
“Certainly, sir; I shall be glad to do so.”
“Mr. Thorndike leaves in the morning, and I am not quite clear as to one of the specifications he gave me with his order. You noticed the gentleman who went through the factory with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He is Mr. Thorndike. Please hand him this note, and if he wishes you to remain with him for company, you had better do so.”
“I will, sir.”
“Hannah,” said Mr. Jennings, as his messenger left with the note, “Carl is a pleasant addition to our little household?”
“Yes, indeed he is,” responded Hannah, emphatically.
“If he was twice the trouble I’d be glad to have him here.”
“He is easy to get along with.”
“Surely.”
“Yet his stepmother drove him from his father’s house.”
“She’s a wicked trollop, then!” said Hannah, in a deep, stern voice. “I’d like to get hold of her, I would.”
“What would you do to her?” asked Mr. Jennings, smiling.
“I’d give her a good shaking,” answered Hannah.
“I believe you would, Hannah,” said Mr. Jennings, amused. “On the whole, I think she had better keep out of your clutches. Still, but for her we would never have met with Carl. What is his father’s loss is our gain.”