Mrs. Ross rose, for there seemed no more to say. She was considerably disappointed with the result of her mission. She supposed, as a matter of course, that the widow would defend her son; but she had not supposed that she would receive so calmly her threats of having recourse to the law.
Indeed, she had expected that the widow would beg and plead for mercy, and appear panic-stricken. As it was, she felt that she was retiring from the contest decidedly worsted. She would not leave without one parting shot.
“I regret, Mrs. Gilbert,” she said, seriously, “that you defend your son in this high-handed outrage. I had thought better of you. I knew you were poor, and I sympathized with you. Now I feel obliged to say that you will only have yourself to blame for the steps I am about to take.”
The widow bowed, but did not gratify Mrs. Ross by inquiring what those steps were.
It was very provoking, certainly.
“I shall call on Mr. Mead, and insist on his discharging your son.”
Knowing what a serious blow this would be, Mrs. Gilbert did look troubled for a moment, and her visitor sailed away, with a slight feeling of satisfaction, in the direction of the grocery store.
Meanwhile Harry, on his return to the store, had reported the accident, and submitted to a close cross-examination on the part of the storekeeper.
“Do you think I am to blame, Mr. Mead?” asked Harry.
“No; I don’t see how you could do otherwise than you did. Young Ross is a disagreeable young puppy; but his family trades with me, and I don’t like to offend them. Still, I shall not blame you.”