He was innocent, yet adjudged guilty. His home and situation were taken from him, and he was turned out into the street.
He resolved to go around and see Cousin Seth. Of his sympathy he felt assured.
He rang the bell, and Mrs. Mead opened the door in person.
"Good-morning, Scott," she said, pleasantly.
"No; he left last evening for the West, to be absent about a month. He asked me to say that he would write you in a day or two. He was called away suddenly by a telegram."
Scott's heart sank within him. He seemed to have lost his only friend.
"Did you wish to see Mr. Lawton about something important?" asked Mrs. Mead.
"Yes, I wish to ask his advice. I have lost my place."
"I never liked Mr. Little. I am glad Willie has another position."
"Have you a small room vacant, Mrs. Mead? I have left Mr. Little's house also, and I must find a room somewhere."
"I have a small hall bedroom on the third floor."
"Two dollars a week, usually, but to you I will make it a dollar and a half."
"Then I will take it. Can I go up at once and leave my valise?"
The room was small, as Mrs. Mead had described it, but it was scrupulously clean. Scott felt that he would be very well satisfied with it, if only he could continue to pay the rent. It was certainly pleasanter than the room he had occupied at Ezra Little's.
"You must dine with us to-night, Mr. Walton," said Mrs. Mead, hospitably. "Willie will be glad to see you, and then you can tell us how you came to leave the store."
As soon as he was settled, Scott went out and began to look for a position. He bought a morning paper, and looked over the advertisements of "Help Wanted."
He took down several names, and began to call in rotation. In several instances he found the places already filled. In one place he was offered two dollars and a half a week, which he knew it would be idle to accept, as it would do little more than pay his room rent.
In one place he was asked where he had worked last.
"At Little's dry-goods store on Eighth Avenue," he answered.
"Because of a disagreement with Mr. Little."
"I don't think we shall require your services," said the merchant, coldly.
He turned away, as if to intimate that the conference was at an end.
Scott was depressed. He saw that any explanation he might give of his leaving his former place would only injure him. Yet, almost everywhere the question would be asked.