When they entered the office, they found the senior partner right where Sam said they would find him—on his high stool.
He laid down his pen and looked at the boys over his spectacles, just as he had looked at Oscar on the day he discharged him.
"Mr. Smith," said Sam, "may we have a few minutes' private conversation with you?"
"I suppose so," was the reply. "Is it very private?"
"Well, we would rather you alone should hear what we have to say. If you choose to repeat it, that is your own affair."
As Sam spoke, he closed the door behind him, and turned the key in the lock.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the grocer; "what's the matter?"
"Mr. Smith," said Sam, without replying to the question, "have you lost any money lately?"
"Not a cent since Oscar went away," was the prompt reply.
"Now, let me tell you what's a fact!" exclaimed Sam. "We didn't come here to listen to any hard words against Oscar Preston, and if you are going to use them we'll not stay. We'll tell you that much to begin with. We will tell you, further, that you have made no friends by the slanderous reports you have circulated regarding that boy."