CHAPTER VII.
THE END.
Max and his uncle entered the office, and were ushered into Mr. Beal's private room.
"Be seated, gentlemen—one moment;" and in a moment the tired man of affairs turned, with that uninterested bow, as if he knew they had nothing of any import to say.
But when Max, man fashion, held up his head and entered squarely on his story, Mr. Beal colored and was all attention. A minute more, and Mr. Beal rose and closed the door, that he might be sure they were not heard. Indeed, he listened eagerly, and yet as if he did not wish Max to be proved in the wrong.
"In short," said Max, at the end, "if what I have done is wrong, I have come to say that I do not want any fight with the company, and I should be glad to make amends."
Strange to say, the man of affairs hardly seemed to heed him. Mr. Beal was already in a brown study.
"Oh, yes, certainly. I am sure I am much obliged. I beg your pardon. Have you said all you wished to say?"
"Nothing more," said Max, half offended.