“He and Billy Crocker, Mr. Crocker’s son, are together a lot,” answered Russell. “And Mr. Crocker would like to see our place closed up. I can’t prove it, but—”
“You don’t need to!” cried Stick angrily. “Of course that was the game! You wait until I see that smart Aleck! I’ll—I’ll tell him where he gets off! I’ll kick him across the Green! I’ll—”
“I wouldn’t say anything about it,” said Russell soothingly. “He only has to deny it. You can’t prove anything, Stick.”
“That’s all right! I don’t need to do any proving!” Stick, as has been already intimated, greatly disliked having anything “put over on him.” “The fat-head! I thought it was funny, his wanting to buy into the business. Why—” Stick paused and dropped his voice several tones. “I say, Rus, I didn’t suspect that for a minute. I wish you’d believe me. I know it looks funny. But honest—”
“That’s all right,” replied Russell. “I believe you, Stick. I couldn’t quite believe that you meant to do anything like that.”
“But wasn’t I the goop?” muttered Stick incredulously. “Never thought that that old shifty-eyed rascal was trying to pull my leg! He was so thunderingly nice and—and sympathetic! You wait till I see the old fraud! You wait—”
“Never mind that,” laughed Russell. “After all, the laugh’s on your side, Stick, for you’ve got them fooled. When you tell Throgmorton you’ve changed your mind—hold on, though! How can you get out of it? You gave him your promise, didn’t you?”
“I said he could have it if you didn’t take it by to-morrow,” answered Stick, “but he didn’t tell me he was buying to sell again to Crocker! He can chase himself now!”
“Still, a promise is a promise,” mused Russell.
“I’ll tell him you’ve bought it. No, I guess that wouldn’t do, either.” Stick scowled perplexedly. “I’ll tell you—”