"I own that building," announced Farrington, swelling up with importance—"it's my property."
"So I've heard."
"A window was broken there and you broke it!"
"I did," admitted Ralph.
"Oho! you shamefacedly acknowledge it, do you? Malicious mischief, young man—that's the phase of the law you're up against!"
"It was an accident," said Ralph—"pure and simple."
"Well, you'll stand for it."
"I intend to. I made a note of it in my mind at the time, Mr. Farrington, and if you had not said a word to me about it I should have done the right thing."
"What do you call the right thing?"
"Replacing the light of glass, of course," was Ralph's reply.
"Glad to see you've got some sense of decency about you. All right. It 'll cost you just a dollar and twenty-five cents. Hand over the money, and I'll have my man fix it."
Ralph laughed outright.
"Hardly, Mr. Farrington," he said. "I can buy a pane of glass for thirty-five cents, and put it in for nothing. I will take this bundle home and attend to it at once."
