A pained look crossed the speculator's face. It was evident that he took a deep interest in Franklin and was hurt to learn of anything to the youth's discredit.
"Franklin, what have you to say? I thought you a different kind of a boy," he said, walking up to the young electrician and placing his hand on the youth's shoulder.
"Mr. Brice, Mr. Buckman is entirely mistaken," was Franklin's earnest reply. "He has jumped at conclusions and will not give me a chance of saying a word in my own defense. I did not touch the machines of which he speaks, and I haven't played a prank of any sort since I came to work."
"Humph!" The speculator in new inventions turned to the superintendent. "Do you hear what he says, Buckman?"
"Oh, yes, he's talked that way before," grumbled Thomas Buckman. "I reckon I know what I am doing."
"But haven't you given him a chance to speak in his own defense?"
"There wasn't anything for him to say. I had the evidence against him plain enough."
"I would like to hear the particulars of the trouble."
"Oh, it ain't worth your time to listen to it," said superintendent, hastily.
"Never mind. I have an hour or two to spare. I have other business, but that can wait."
