“Nothing very criminal, I’ll wager,” commented Mr. Rexford dryly. “I am fairly well acquainted with Mr. Barton and his methods. You are not the first boy I have championed. Now, listen to me, my boy, if you have any further trouble with Mr. Barton, come straight to me with it. I can help you.”
“Thank you. I will, sir. I must go now. I hope I can do something for you some day, sir.”
Mr. Rexford smiled. “Perhaps you can. One never knows.”
Harry walked back to the exchange desk with a light heart. Mr. Rexford was his friend. He was glad now that he had not found the time to go to Mr. Marsh with his story of Mr. Barton’s harshness. If worst came to worst, Mr. Rexford would help him. Had he not just said so? Even though he met with discouragements from one source, there would always be someone to help him in his hour of need.
[CHAPTER XVII]
THE SINGER AND THE SONG
“I wonder when school will close,” remarked Harry Harding to Teddy Burke one morning in late November. It was now a little more than a month since the two chums had enlisted under the banner of Martin Brothers, and they had become thoroughly familiar with the routine of store life.
“After Thanksgiving, I guess,” returned Teddy. It was a cold, blustering morning, but the lads swung down the street apparently unmindful of the officious wind which whisked pedestrians’ hats from their heads and blew the red into their cheeks and noses.