“Is this Mr. Len Dardus?” asked Foster, walking up to the counter, behind which this repelling creature stood.

“That’s my name,” snapped the proprietor of the store, adding as he scrutinized his questioner closely: 

“What do you want?”

“I want to know if you have a boy working for you by the name of Bob Chester.”

“I have, but I won’t have after to-night, I can tell you.  I have no use for lazy boys, and for laziness he can’t be beaten.  Here I sent him to deliver some goods more than two hours ago, and he hasn’t got back yet, and this is my busiest day.”

So disagreeable was the tone in which the old man spoke that Foster could not refrain from remarking: 

“Well, you do not seem to be overrushed with trade just now.  However, that is neither here nor there.  How long have you had Bob in your employ?”

“Ever since he was big enough to be of any service to me.”

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?”

“No, he’s not.  Didn’t I just tell you he has been gone over two hours, delivering an order that should not have taken him more than fifteen minutes at the most?  No good boy would dawdle so about his business.  But why do you ask?”

Foster, however, was not ready to tell Bob’s employer of his predicament until he had obtained more information about the boy, and instead of answering the question, said: 

“You misunderstood my meaning.  I want to know whether or not he is honest or has any bad habits.”

“He has the habit of taking a long time to deliver his orders, and he always has some plausible excuse for the delay—­although I never accept his excuses.  It isn’t the way to bring up a boy.  But he doesn’t steal, and I don’t let him go out nights, so he can’t have any companions.  But why do you ask?  What business of yours is it?”

“Just one more question before I answer you.”

“You seem mighty long on questions, but I’ll not answer another one until you tell me why you are taking such pains to find out about Bob.  He hasn’t any friend but me.  I’m his guardian.”

So hostile was the grocer’s manner becoming, and with such increasing suspicion did he view his inquisitor, that Foster realized it would be necessary to explain Bob’s predicament were he to be able to help him, and briefly he told the story that had been repeated in the police station.

“That just goes to show my theory is right,” declared the grocer, when he had been given the particulars of his ward’s arrest.  “If Bob had gone about his business and delivered the order, instead of being tempted by the offer of a dollar, he wouldn’t have got into this trouble.  It will be a good lesson for him, and I shall be able to get along some way, I suppose, until he comes back.”

“But surely you don’t mean to say that you are not going to do anything to help him out of his trouble?” exclaimed Foster in amazement, as he heard the heartless words.