There is something rather peculiar about the fact that troubles of any sort never seem to come singly. This has been noticed by almost every person of wide experience, and the idea is crystallized in the proverb: "It never rains but it pours." The adage certainly held true in Fred's case.

Only a few days after the occurrence related in the preceding chapter, and when Fred had begun to feel a little more at ease in his mind, he was called up sharply one night by his employer, who said to him:

"Fred, what have you done with the twenty dollar bill that was in this drawer?"

"I have seen no such bill there to-day, sir," replied the clerk.

"You have seen no such bill, do you say? I took a new twenty dollar bill of James D. Atwood this afternoon, when he settled his account, and I put it in this drawer," pointing to the open cash drawer before him.

"It seems queer, sir; but I am sure that I have not paid it out or seen it. Didn't you give it to Woodman and Hardy's man when you paid him some money to-day?"

"No!" replied the merchant nervously, "he was here early in the afternoon, before I took the bill. There has been no one to the cash drawer but you and myself—unless you neglected your business and allowed some scoundrel in behind the counter while I was at tea."

Fred flushed up at this intimation that he might have been false to his trust, and replied, with some show of injured feeling:

"Mr. Rexford, if any money has been lost, I am sorry for you; but as I said, I know nothing about it. You say you took in a twenty dollar bill, and that now it is gone. If a mistake has occurred in making change, I don't know why it should be laid to me any more than yourself, for I am as careful as I can be."

"Do you mean to say, young man, that I have made a mistake of this size in making change?"

"I simply say, there must be a mistake somewhere. Have you figured up your cash account to know just how it stands?"

Mr. Rexford had not figured it up, but on discovering that the bill was missing, and noticing that there was little increase in the other money, he jumped to the conclusion that the drawer was twenty dollars short. But on carefully going over his cash and sales accounts, and reckoning the money on hand, he found that there was just eighteen dollars missing.

This discovery only added mystery to the already perplexing matter. It certainly looked now as though some cunning method had been employed to swindle him.

The merchant's brow contracted at the thought, and after a few moments he said, in an excited and angry manner:

"Worthington, you know about that bill, and are trying to deceive me. I can see no way but that you took it during my absence, and in trying to cover up your act put two dollars in the drawer; but, young man, I'd have you know that such tricks can't be played on me!"

The flush that had appeared upon Fred's face was now gone, and in its stead appeared the paleness of anger. He stepped squarely up to his accuser, and said, in a determined tone:

"Do you mean to say that I stole your money? If you mean that, sir, you say what is false, and you shall——"

"No, no; I don't—er—er—I won't say that—but—but be calm and let me see!"

"Do you withdraw your accusation, then?" demanded the youth, whose manner was such that Rexford was glad, for the time being, to retract his statement, or make any admission whatever, for he saw that in the boy's eyes which warned him to adopt a more conciliatory policy and to do it speedily.

He consequently retreated from his position, and assured Fred that he had spoken too hastily in accusing him. He also moved cautiously backward to another part of the store, doubtless feeling that the air would circulate more freely between them if they were some distance apart; then he added:

"But the bill is gone, and as I have not paid it out, I want it accounted for."

"No doubt you do," said Fred. "I should like to know where it is myself. As long as you put it on that ground I will not object, but you shall not charge me squarely with committing a theft."

"No, I won't charge you directly with taking it, but I have my opinion as to where it has gone," rejoined Rexford, with an insinuating air.

Fred knew well what that opinion was; but it was beyond his power to challenge it while unexpressed, and he could not at that time change it by proving his innocence, so he replied:

"Very well, you can think as you like, if that gives you any satisfaction."

"Yes, yes; very good! But I will get my satisfaction, not in thinking, but in acting! You were hired as my clerk, and it was your duty to work for my interest, and look out for this store in my absence. As this bill disappeared while under your charge, I shall hold you responsible for it," said the merchant, as he rubbed his thin, bony hands together.

This made the color again change in Fred's face, which, being noticed by Rexford, influenced him to move a few paces nearer to the door, as he possibly thought it still a little warm for his comfort, while young Worthington exclaimed:

"You will never get a cent of my money for this purpose! Now you just remember that!"

"Not so fast, young man! You forget that I owe you about fifteen dollars, and I'll keep that amount in partial payment for this loss. Don't think you are going to get ahead of me quite so easy!"

"I'm not trying to get ahead of you, but I want my rights and what is due me, and I will have both. I don't more than half believe there was a twenty dollar bill here at all! It is one of your mean tricks to beat me out of my money. It is not much more, sir, than I have seen you do by customers—adulterating goods, giving short weight and measures, and——"

"Stop there! you vil—er—insinuating rascal," yelled the proprietor, in a rage, his limbs and features twitching nervously. "Do you mean to say that I cheat my customers, and——""Yes, that is just what I mean," replied Fred firmly.

"I'll have you arrested at once. I won't be insulted by such a scamp!"

"Be careful whom you call a scamp!" said Fred, while Rexford again edged off. "I'd like to have you arrest me, for then I could tell things about you and your store that would make a stir in this village! What if some of the folks find out that the XXX St. Louis brand of flour, for which they pay you ten dollars a barrel, is a cheap grade that you bought in plain barrels and stamped yourself? Now do you want to arrest me? If you do there are many other things I can tell, and I wouldn't pass your accounts by either. I know something of what has been going on here—more than you think, perhaps."

These rapid and earnest utterances from young Worthington wrought a complete change in the merchant. They alarmed him, for he saw that the boy had the advantage, and out of policy he must stop matters before they became any worse. So he said, in a humble and subdued tone:

"Fred, it's no use for us to quarrel about this. You know it is not proper for you to go outside and tell your employer's business, and——"

"I know it is not, and I would only do so to defend myself; but when you threaten to keep my money, and to have me arrested, then I will show what kind of a man is trying to take advantage of me."

"Very well, then, if I pay you your money, you will say nothing about the business of this store, I suppose?"

"No, I will say nothing about what I have just mentioned, unless I should be put on trial; then, of course, I should be obliged to testify."

"You will not be put on trial. I take you at your word—your word of honor," added the merchant impressively.

"Yes, my word of honor!" repeated Fred, "and that means that your secrets are safe."

The wily Rexford had now gained his point—Fred's promise—and he quickly changed front and cried:

"Well, there's your money—fifteen dollars—now consider yourself discharged from my employ!"

"'Discharged,' did you say, sir?" ejaculated Fred, utterly taken aback at this sudden turn of events.

"I said 'discharged,'" repeated the merchant, fidgeting about; "you know what the word means, I presume?"

Fred did know what it meant. It meant more than Rexford's narrow spirit could even comprehend. It meant disgrace, perhaps ruin.Fred took the money, the few bills, the last he would earn in the old store, and stood for a moment turning them over listlessly—evidently not counting them, but as if to aid him in solving the problem that rested heavily upon his mind.