“That will do, Barton,” cut in a stern voice. “I happened to see that this boy did not break the powder box.”
Mr. Barton whirled to find himself staring into the steady, contemptuous eyes of Mr. Rexford, the book-buyer.
“If you sub-slip that boy, or even give him a demerit, you’ll be sorry.” Turning on his heel the book-buyer walked away. Nevertheless, his threat had the desired effect. Mr. Barton put the sub-slip blank he had taken from his pocket into it again, and with a spiteful glance at Harry, strode off towards the exchange desk.
Harry stood gazing after him, too dazed to do anything but stare. It had all happened so quickly. And Mr. Rexford, that splendid man, had come to his rescue. A rush of grateful tears blinded the boy’s eyes. He winked them back, then moved by his feeling of gratitude he made straight for Mr. Rexford’s office.
The door stood open. Mr. Rexford was just about to seat himself before his handsome mahogany desk.
“Oh, Mr. Rexford, I don’t know how to thank you,” cried Harry impulsively.
The book-buyer faced about. “Oh, it’s you, my boy. You had rather a bad case against you, didn’t you? Lucky I happened to see the whole thing.”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Barton wouldn’t have believed me.”
“Yet I don’t believe you are an untruthful boy. What makes Mr. Barton so hard on you? What have you done to offend him?”
Harry colored and was silent.