It was evident, by the self-satisfied look upon the restaurant-keeper’s face, that the hot-tempered man supposed that he had done a very smart thing in thus disposing of Matt’s wares by throwing the bundle into the muddy gutter of the street.
“Now pick up your goods and skip out!” he cried, as he turned to the boy. “And the next time you be careful how you disturb folks when they are trying to take it a little easy!”
For the instant Matt was stupefied, and stood still, hardly moving a muscle.
Then the boy’s natural temper arose to the surface, and for the moment he felt as if he must fly at the man and pound him in the face just as hard as he could. His face grew first red and then deadly pale. The man saw the change in his countenance, saw the fire flash in the boy’s eyes, and stopped short just as he was about to repeat his injunction to leave the establishment.
“You are a—a brute!” exclaimed Matt, stepping forward with clinched fists.
“What’s that?” cried the restaurant-keeper, so loudly that several customers and a number of the waiters gathered round to learn the cause of the trouble.
“I say you are a brute!” repeated Matt, undaunted by the fierce look the restaurant-keeper had assumed. “If you did not wish to buy from me you could have said so. There was no need for you to throw my goods in the gutter.”
“Shut up and clear out!” growled the man. “I want no back talk from the likes of you. Do you suppose I buy from beggars and thieves?”
“I am neither a beggar nor a thief!” returned Matt striding still closer. “And I won’t allow you nor any one else to say so.”