Mr. Everett regarded the boy with a quizzical smile. “How much did she lose?” he asked sharply.
“Ten dollars, and she hasn’t paid her board, or her laundry, or anything. She——”
The buyer’s hand traveled to his breast pocket. Taking out a seal wallet, he counted four crisp one-dollar bills. “There’s your ten dollars. Now, scatter, all of you. What would Mr. Martin say if he happened along?” Turning abruptly, Mr. Everett walked away.
“There’s a buyer for you!” glowed one of the men.
“He’s a real man. Now, Teddy——”
But Teddy was half way down the aisle.
“Here’s your ten dollars, Miss Newton,” he cried jubilantly. “Hold your hands, and don’t dare lose it this time.”
The disconsolate weeper straightened up with a jerk, and stared in tearful amazement at the boy who had so sturdily come to her aid.
“Why—where—did you get it? That’s not my money!”
“Yes it is. Hurry up and take it,” retorted Teddy impatiently. “It’s from the folks in the department. You’d better go and get your lunch now. I won’t let anybody touch your stock while you’re gone. Take it. I’ve got to go. Mr. Everett is yelling 65.”