“Where are you going?” John Wade demanded sternly.
“I don’t know that I am bound to answer your question,” answered Frank, quietly, “but I have no objection. I am going to Thirty-ninth Street with this bundle.”
“Hark you, boy! I have something to say to you,” continued John Wade, harshly. “You have had the impudence to write to my uncle.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing that you would like to hear. He looks upon you as a thief.”
“You have slandered me to him, Mr. Wade,” he said, angrily. “You might be in better business than accusingly a poor boy falsely.”
“Hark you, young man! I have had enough of your impudence. I will give you a bit of advice, which you will do well to follow. Leave this city for a place where you are not known, or I may feel disposed to shut you up on a charge of theft.”
“I shall not leave the city, Mr. Wade,” returned Frank, firmly. “I shall stay here in spite of you,” and without waiting for an answer, he walked on.