"Yes, you could help it too, if you'd had your eyes open!" the man said in harsh tones. "I left you in charge of the office, and you ought to have been sharp enough not to be fooled and cheated. I—I don't know what to do to you!"
Again he shook the boy.
"Ouch! You hurt, Mr. Mason!" cried the lad.
"Well, you deserve to be hurt, losing money that way," was the answer.
"I—I've a good notion to—"
But the sentence was not finished. Just then, by a sudden motion, the boy pulled away from the man who was shaking him, and ran down the road. For a moment it seemed as if the man would run after him, but he did not. The two stood looking at one another, while Mr. Bobbsey, having alighted from the automobile, walked up toward the lumber office.
"You'd better come back here, Frank," called the man who had been shaking the boy. "You'd better come back."
"I'll never come back!" was the answer. "I—I'm going to run away! I'll never live with you again! You treat me too mean! It wasn't my fault about that bad money! I couldn't help it. I'm going to run away, and I'm never coming back again. I can't stand it here!"
Bursting into tears, the boy raced off down the road in a cloud of dust.