"You needn't insult me, young fellow," he declared. "I've a friend or two here and I'll set about letting them know the truth."
He was as good as his word. The woman who had departed had also found her sympathizers. Mr. Waddington watched the departure of a little stream of people with a puzzled frown.
"What's the matter with them all?" he muttered. "Come here, Burton."
Burton, who had been standing a little in the background, endeavoring to escape further observation until the commencement of the sale, obeyed his master's summons promptly.
"Can't reckon things up at all," Mr. Waddington confided. "Why aren't you round and amongst 'em, Burton, eh? You're generally such a good 'un at rubbing it into them. Why, the only two people I've seen you talk to this morning have left the place! What's wrong with you, man?"
"I only wish I knew," Burton replied, fervently.
Mr. Waddingon scratched his chin.
"What's the meaning of those clothes, eh?" he demanded. "You've lost your appearance, Burton—that's what you've done. Not even a silk hat on a sale day!"
"I'm sorry," Burton answered. "To tell you the truth, I had forgotten that it was a sale day."
Mr. Waddington looked curiously at his assistant, and the longer he looked, the more convinced he became that Burton was not himself.