“He isn’t very much interested in him,” the book-keeper said to himself shrewdly. “He doesn’t say anything in his defence.”
“No; but I am afraid he would if the theft had not been detected so soon.”
“What was it,—money?”
“A ten-dollar bill, which I laid casually on the desk, suddenly disappeared. It was found, after a little search, in the pocket of your friend’s coat.”
“He isn’t my friend; he is only an acquaintance,” said Randolph. “I don’t know much about him. I didn’t think he’d steal, though. Did he own up?”
“Not he; he was too brazen. Mr. Sands was absent from the city, but I did not hesitate to discharge him at once. In our business a boy must often be trusted with sums of value, and I should not feel safe in continuing to employ him.”
Gilbert accused of stealing.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Randolph. “I wonder what father’ll say.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be going,” he continued. “I didn’t expect to hear such news of Gilbert.”