"I know it is not, and I would only do so to defend myself; but when you threaten to keep my money, and to have me arrested, then I will show what kind of a man is trying to take advantage of me."
"Very well, then, if I pay you your money, you will say nothing about the business of this store, I suppose?"
"No, I will say nothing about what I have just mentioned, unless I should be put on trial; then, of course, I should be obliged to testify."
"You will not be put on trial. I take you at your word—your word of honor," added the merchant impressively.
"Yes, my word of honor!" repeated Fred, "and that means that your secrets are safe."
The wily Rexford had now gained his point—Fred's promise—and he quickly changed front and cried:
"Well, there's your money—fifteen dollars—now consider yourself discharged from my employ!"
"'Discharged,' did you say, sir?" ejaculated Fred, utterly taken aback at this sudden turn of events.
"I said 'discharged,'" repeated the merchant, fidgeting about; "you know what the word means, I presume?"
Fred did know what it meant. It meant more than Rexford's narrow spirit could even comprehend. It meant disgrace, perhaps ruin.