"The big man, the one who's ahead of you all?" said Joel, impatiently, waving his arms around comprehensively to take in the whole counting room.
"Oh, Mr. Persons, I guess he means," contributed the man at the neighboring desk. By this time everybody in the department had become interested, and pens were laid down and heads were bobbed up.
"Yes, yes," cried Joel, quite delighted to recognize the name that in his excitement had slipped away. "Where is he?" drumming on the desk impatiently.
"In there, kid," the bookkeeper stuck his penholder over his shoulder, and following its lead, Joel was soon within a little office, that, if he had taken time to notice, would have showed him "Private" in big letters across the door.
But Joel hadn't time to waste on anything but the matter in hand, and he plunged up to the desk and burst out: "It was my fault, and I want to pay for it. Don't let him make the little girl pay, please don't." He laid hold of the gray-haired man's arm at this last, and held on with a grip, for Mr. McKenzie hurried up.
Mr. Persons dropped his pen in astonishment. His mouth flew open, but he said not a word.
"I'll explain it, sir," began the floor-walker, with deference, but he had a withering look for Joel. "You see, one of the—"
"Oh, don't let him tell it," burst in Joel, in terror, and gripping the arm on the desk worse than ever; "he wants that poor little girl to pay." He brought his black eyes so close to the gray-bearded face that the countenance holding them obscured everything else.
"I'll tell you how it is, sir," said McKenzie, hastily.
"On the contrary, I'll let the boy tell his story," said Mr. Persons, dryly. "Now, then, what is it, my lad?" and he brought his eyes, just as sharp in their way, although the palest of blue ones, to bear on Joel's face.