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 thing to-day, and so have you. It's cheap at the price."

Bert, speaking with respect and finality, refused to recognize any such bargain. "You pulled me out," he said, "but it isn't fair to make you stand it all. I've got to pay you back. I'll come to the store on Saturdays and help around. I'll work there all during vacation. Whatever I'm worth can go toward Mr. Clud and the lease money."

"It isn't necessary, Bert. I told you a moment ago some things are cheap at the price. I'm not a Clud."

"It was my mistake," Bert said with a new gravity, "and I ought to make good."

"Half, then," Mr. Quinby said suddenly. "This is a partnership, and I demand a partner's right. We'll split it."

Partnership! Bert thrilled. That was different. Quinby and Son! "Half, then," he agreed.

At that moment Sergeant Rockwell appeared in the doorway and told them that Judge Manning was ready to hold court.

Walking side by side, father and son crossed the hall. Bert was conscious of a sea of faces staring at him from the spectators' benches. Then the mass of faces faded out and only two remained—Bill Harrison, back toward the rear, plainly concerned, and Tom Woods in about the middle of the court room. The Butterfly Man