He would not speak to Oscar at all, or even look toward him if he could help it; but he had a great deal to say in his presence concerning thieves and defaulting book-keepers and cashiers.
"Stuart had better not talk that way in my hearing," declared Sam, one day, when a lot of school-boys were talking about Oscar and his troubles; and as he said it he doubled up a pair of fists that were pretty large and heavy for a boy of sixteen. "Oscar is my friend, and any fellow who says a word against him can just scratch my name off his good books. Mark my words: If there was a dishonest clerk in that store, he's there yet; and if money was missed from the drawer while Oscar was employed there, it will be missed now that he is gone. Oscar Preston never had a dishonest penny in his hands."
If Sam had owned the shop he would have ordered Stuart out of it on the instant; but as he had no right to do that, he simply returned the clerk's bow, scowled savagely at his friend Miles, and felt like giving Oscar a punch in the ribs because he greeted Stuart so cordially.
The new-comer seemed surprised to find so many boys in the shop, and for a minute or two he did not speak. He stood with his hand on the latch, evidently undecided whether to go out or come in. Finally he made up his mind that he would come in.
"I was out delivering goods," said he, as he closed the door behind him, "and I thought I would run in for just a moment and see what a taxidermist's shop looks like. I have a curiosity to see a bird before it is put up ready for sale."
"All right," said Oscar, laying down his paint-brush. "I think I can show you some fine specimens. Come in here."
As he spoke he drew aside the curtain and conducted his visitor into the recess, while Sam showed what he thought of such a proceeding by picking up a block of wood and hitting the work-bench a savage blow with it.