The Young Bank Messenger Part 39

"For an impudent young rascal," was the reply.

"Let me alone, I tell you!"

"Will you apologize?"

"There is no need of an apology. You got in my way."

"You have no business on the sidewalk with your bicycle. It is meant for foot-pa.s.sengers."

"Do you know who I am?" demanded Clarence, haughtily.

"No, I don't, nor do I care."

"I am Clarence Ray, son of Squire Stephen Ray. He is a magistrate, and he can send you to jail."

These words of Clarence had the effect he desired. The stranger released him and eyed him with close scrutiny.

"So you are the son of Stephen Ray?" he said.

"Yes. What have you to say now?"

"That you had no right to run into me, whoever your father may be."

"I shall report your insolence to my father. I shall charge you with violently a.s.saulting me."

"I might have known you were Stephen Ray's son," said the stranger thoughtfully.

"Do you know my father?" asked Clarence in considerable surprise.

"I am on my way to call upon him."

"I don't think it will do any good. He never gives money to tramps."

"I have a great mind to give you another shaking up," said the man, and in some fear Clarence edged away from him.

It was evident that this shabby-looking stranger had not a proper respect for those who were in a higher station.

"I will tell him not to give you anything," continued Clarence.

"Like father, like son," said the stranger thoughtfully, apparently not disturbed by the boy's threats.

Evidently he was no common tramp, or he would have been more respectful to the son of the man from whom he was probably about to ask a favor.

"You just wait till you see my father. He'll give you a lecture that you won't soon forget."

"You'd better get on your wheel, boy, and go right along," said the stranger calmly.

"Do you know where my father lives?"

"Yes, at yonder fine house. I see him sitting out on the piazza. Shall we go along together?"

"No, I don't keep such company as you. Tramps are not my style."

"And yet some day you may be as poor and friendless as myself."

"That isn't very likely; my father is a very rich man."

"I knew him when he was poor."

More and more puzzled by the independent manner of this shabby stranger, Clarence made a spurt, and soon found himself in the grounds of his father's house.

"With whom were you talking, Clarence?" asked Stephen Ray, as his son joined him on the piazza.

"One of the most impudent tramps I ever came across," answered Clarence. "He made an attack upon me, and pulled me from my bicycle."

Stephen Ray's cheek flamed with anger. An insult to his son was an insult to him.

"Why did he do this? How dared he?" he demanded angrily.

"Because I happened to touch him as I pa.s.sed," answered Clarence.

"He actually pulled you from your bicycle?" asked Stephen Ray, almost incredulous.

"Yes."

"I should like to meet him. I should feel justified in ordering his arrest."

"You will have a chance to meet him. He told me he was going to call upon you there he is now, entering the gate."

Stephen was glad to hear it. He wanted to empty the vials of his wrath on the audacious offender. He prided himself on his grand manner.

He was accustomed to seeing men of the stamp of this stranger quail before him and show nervous alarm at his rebukes. He had no doubt that his majestic wrath would overwhelm the shabby outcast who had audaciously a.s.saulted his son and heir.

He rose to his feet, and stood the personification of haughty displeasure as the poor man, who dared his anger, walked composedly up the path. He now stood by the piazza steps.

"It is well you have come here," began the squire in a dignified tone.

"My son tells me that you have committed an unprovoked outrage upon him in dragging him from his wheel. I can only conclude that you are under the influence of liquor."

Stephen Ray waited curiously to hear what the man would say. He was prepared for humble apologies.

"I am no more drunk than yourself, if that is what you mean, Stephen Ray," was the unexpected reply.

Squire Ray was outraged and scandalized.

"You must be drunk or you would not dare to talk in this way. Who authorized you to address me in this familiar way?"

"You are only a man, I believe, Stephen Ray. I have addressed you as respectfully as you have spoken to me."