Luke who was a spirited boy, was fast getting angry.
"I don't want to interfere with you in any way," he said.
"What do you mean?" demanded the red-haired boy, his cheeks rivaling his hair in color.
"I thought that might be one of your duties."
"Why, you impudent young vagabond! Uncle Nathaniel, did you hear that?"
"Boy, you had better go," said the bookkeeper.
"You can leave your card," added Eustis Clark, the nephew.
A friend of Luke's had printed and given him a dozen cards a few days previous, and he had them in his pocket at that moment.
"Thank you for the suggestion," he said, and walking up to the boy's desk he deposited on it a card bearing this name in neat script:
LUKE WALTON.