Captain Zelotes looked at him.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why, because—because of—of what I said to him—er—er—when I called here yesterday morning. He—I presume he took offense and—and this outrage is the result. I am convinced that—”
“Wait a minute. What did you say for him to take offense at?”
“I demanded that order should be delivered as promised. I am accustomed to do business with business men and—”
“Hold on just a minute more, Mr. Calvin. We don't seem to be gettin' at the clam in this shell as fast as we'd ought to. Al, what have you got to say about all this business?”
Albert was white, almost as white as when he fought Sam Thatcher, but as he stood up to Sam so also did he face the irate clergyman. He told of the latter's visit to the office, of the threat to cancel the order unless delivery was promised that day, of how his promise to deliver was exacted, of his effort to keep that promise.
“I HAD to deliver it, Grandfather,” he said hotly. “He had all but called me a liar and—and by George, I wasn't going to—”
His grandfather held up a warning hand.
“Sshh! Ssh!” he said. “Go on with your yarn, boy.”