“Oh, I see,” she answered kindly. “I don’t know. I’ll ask——”
At that moment a man came from an inner office. Tom started at the sight of him, for he was Barton Sandow, the brother-in-law of Dr. Spidderkins.
“Well,” fairly growled Mr. Sandow, “what do you want here? I don’t want any books, even if Dr. Spidderkins does waste his money on them.”
“I haven’t any books,” replied Tom. “I called to see if you wanted a boy. I’m looking for work.”
The lad’s answer seemed to enrage the man. He started toward our hero, his face flaming red with passion.
“Who told you to come here?” he cried.
“No one; I just happened to come. I’m inquiring in all the offices in the building.”
“Well, you clear out of here, you young gutter-pup!” fairly shouted Barton Sandow. “I don’t want a boy, and if I did I shouldn’t hire you! Get out of here! Do you understand! Clear out, and don’t you dare come in again!”
The pretty typewriter girl shrank back afrightened, and Tom, not knowing what to make of the outburst, opened the door and went out.
“There’s something wrong with Mr. Sandow,” he said, for the needlessly cruel words rankled in his mind. “There was no occasion for him to speak like that. I pity Dr. Spidderkins, living with that man. There’s something queer about it. I wonder what it is?”