"Ah, you know you got a note due at the bank, don't you?"
"Yes, but——"
"Well, it's protested. Y'un'erstand that, don't you?"
"Why, Pete!" Graham swayed, half-dazed.
"An' I'm here to serve the papers onto you."
"But—but there must be some mistake." Sam clutched blindly for his hat. "I'll step over and see Mr. Lockwood. He'll arrange to give me a little more time, I'm sure. He's always been kind, very kind."
"Naw!" Pete bawled, "Mr. Lockwood don't want to see you unless you can settle. Y'can save yourself the trouble. Y'gottuh put up or git out!"
"But, Pete—Mr. Lockwood said he didn't want to see me?"
"Yah, that's what he said, and I got orders from him, soon's I got judgment to close y'up. And that goes, see!"
"To—to turn me out of the store, Pete?" Graham's world had slipped from beneath his feet. He was overwhelmed, witless, as helpless as a child. And it was with a child's look of pitiful dismay and perplexity that he faced the sheriff.