“Say something to you, Stet?” repeated Frank in a puzzled way.
“Uh—huh.”
“What?”
“I want you to look at me fierce, and frown, and say that you order me out of your place, and if I show up again you’ll break every bone in my body.”
“See here—” began Frank in wonderment.
“Now, you just say it,” persisted Stet. “I know my business,” and he blinked and chuckled craftily.
“All right—here goes.”
“Good as a play,” declared Stet, as Frank went through the rigmarole. “Now I needn’t tell any lies. Thrown out by my friends, discharged from my job, O—O—Oh!” and Stet affected sobs of the deepest misery. “Had Bob Haven kicked me—not hard—out of the shop last night. See? Object of abuse and sympathy. Oh, I’m fixed now to play Mr. Dale Wacker good and strong.”
Stet disappeared the way he had come in a high state of elation. Frank went into the house for breakfast. He walked as far as the office with his mother. Then he went to the livery stable where he had hired the turnout.