"I think so, but I may be mistaken."
Ben was not required to answer, for the door opened hastily, and a
man entered in visible excitement.
"What is your business, sir?" asked Mr. Fitch, rather nervously.
"Are you Fitch or Ferguson?" demanded the intruder.
"I am Mr. Fitch."
"Two days ago my son, James Cameron, entered your service."
"Yes, sir."
"Where is he now?"
"We have sent him to Brooklyn to collect a bill."
"He paid you a deposit of fifty dollars?"
"Certainly. We require it as a guarantee of honesty and fidelity."
"Well, I want you to pay it back."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Mr. Fitch, looking very much
disturbed. "It will be given up when your son leaves our
employment."
"Well, he's going to leave it to-day," said the other.
"Can you get him another place as good? Ten dollars a week are not
often paid to boys."
"No, sir; it's that that makes me suspicious. Give me back the fifty
dollars, and James shall leave your employment."
"That is entirely irregular, sir," said Fitch. "Your son has been
only two days in the office. At the end of the week he can leave us,
and receive back his money."
"That won't do," said the angry father.
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