The lawyer stepped over to Bud and caught him by the shoulder. The next moment, Attorney Stockwell was sliding over the worn and dusty grass outside the shed and Jim was hurrying back for another victim. But his services were not needed. Mr. T. Glenn Dare had caught up his coat and escaped beneath the canvas on the far side of the tent.
With difficulty Bud refrained from laughing. But he ran out after his foster father.
“I want to apologize for that,” he began. “Jim didn’t understand.”
Attorney Stockwell was boiling with rage.
“I thought you told me you wouldn’t do this again,” he almost shouted, “for less than fifty dollars a day.”
“Or nothing,” added Bud.
The lawyer’s face grew white.
“You ungrateful whelp,” he almost hissed. “Don’t you set your foot in my house again.”
“Good-bye,” said Bud indifferently, turning away.
Attorney Stockwell was too full of rage to talk. As Mr. Dare joined him, they turned and hastened away.