CHAPTER V.
THE CLERK’S RUSE.
“I was in hopes we should be kept so busy this afternoon that Sam wouldn’t have a chance to speak to me,” thought Gus, as he made his way to the office and hung up his hat and overcoat, “but it is just my luck. If I wanted a few minutes rest the store would be so full of customers that you couldn’t crowd a ramrod in among them.”
“Well?” said Sam, when the boy came out of the office and took his place behind the counter.
“Well,” answered Gus, “I can’t pay you this month. I have had so many calls that my money is all used up. Twenty dollars don’t go far, you know.”
Sam’s face grew black at once. “Didn’t I tell you that my claim was to be settled first?” he demanded, angrily.
“Yes; but what am I to do when a man stops me in the street and tells me that if I don’t pay up then and there, he will see my father about it before I am an hour older?” asked Gus.
“Put him off with promises, as you do me. Who stopped you on the street?”
“That Jew.”
“Did you pay him?”
“I did—not.” The last word Gus said to himself.