“I don’t,” interrupted Gus. “But Meyers is coming after what I owe him, and there he is now. Tell him that I have gone out and shan’t be back for a week. If you will do that much for me I will repay you——”
Gus did not have time to say how or when he would repay Sam, for at this moment the red-faced man turned half around and placed his hand on the door-knob. Gus quickly ducked his head and stole along behind the counter toward the back part of the store, until he came to a door opening into the warehouse.
He straightened up when he reached this place of refuge, and just as he did so the opening and closing of the front door told him that Mr. Meyers, the Jew who kept the little cigar and tobacco stand around the corner, had entered on one of his regular weekly dunning visits.
“Much good may it do him,” thought Gus, keeping the door open about half an inch so that he could see all that passed in the store. “He is a regular leech, and if I could only settle up with him I’d pay him for his persistency by buying my cigars and fine cut somewhere else.”
The visitor held a long interview with Sam—so long that Gus began to be very impatient, and at last to tremble for fear that his father, who was busy with the books in the office, might come out and find him there. Gus could not hear what they said, but he could see, by Mr. Meyers’s emphatic gestures, that he was very much in earnest about something. As soon as the man left the store, Gus drew a long breath of relief and came out of his hiding-place. The smile on his face showed that he was very much pleased with the success of his little stratagem.
“O, there’s nothing to grin over, old fellow,” said Sam. “If you know when you are well off you will rake fifteen dollars together pretty lively, I tell you.”
“Fifteen dollars!” replied Gus. “I don’t owe him any such sum as that.”
“He’s got a bill made out for it, anyhow.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him that you had gone out somewhere on business, and that you would call and pay him to-morrow afternoon.”