“He’s run away with several hundred dollars of my money,” said Mr. Drummond, sternly. “It’ll be a sorry day for him when I get hold of him!”
“Just as I thought,” said Sam to himself. “How could he do such a thing?” he said, aloud. “I didn’t think that of Joshua.”
“Nor I,” said his father; “but he’s long been pestering me to let him come to New York, but I wouldn’t let him. Didn’t he ever say anything to you about it?”
“Yes,” said Sam. “He’s often spoken of it.”
“I hoped you could tell me where to find him,” said Mr. Drummond.
“I haven’t the least idea where he is,” said Sam, which was, to some extent, true, so far as Joshua’s present whereabouts were concerned.
“I may have to go back to Stapleton without finding him,” continued Mr. Drummond. “If you see anything of him, I wish you would telegraph up to me at once, and I’ll pay all expenses, and----” here Mr. Drummond paused, but at last added, liberally: “I’ll give you a dollar besides.”
“I shan’t want any reward,” he said, but he inwardly pronounced him a pretty mean fellow. “Very likely I shall see him, if he stays in the city.”
“He won’t go away from the city,” said Mr. Drummond. “He wanted to live here, most of all. Well, good-by. It won’t do for me to miss the afternoon train home.”
“The old man’s precious mad!” said Sam to himself, as he entered the store. “I would not like to stand in Joshua’s shoes when his affectionate papa gets hold of him. It’s lucky he didn’t happen along just now. So the old man expects to buy me for a dollar. It’s too cheap. I always knew he was mean; and Joshua isn’t much better. I must see how I can get as much out of him as possible, and that soon.”