"You would, would you?" growled the auctioneer, his face growing dark and sour.
"Yes, I would!" retorted the boy defiantly. "I'm not afraid of you!"
"Say, that boy's game!" laughed a bystander.
"Yes, a regular little bantam," replied another.
"I'll settle with you in a minute," said the auctioneer, finding he could not silence Matt. "Now, madam, do you intend to pay for the damage done or not?"
"I did not do the damage, and I cannot see how you can ask me to pay," faltered Ida Bartlett, "I have proof that you let the piece of bric-a-brac fall."
"The chap who says he saw her drop it had his back turned at the time," put in Matt, and turning to the individual in question, he added: "Can you swear that you saw the piece of statuary leave her hand?"
"N-no, I can't do that," returned the fellow slowly, "But it went down at her feet, and"
"You imagined the rest," finished Matt. "I told you so," he went on triumphantly.
"See here; you shut up," cried the auctioneer, losing his temper. "Dilks, come here and help me," he went on, appealing to the assistant he had before called Andrew.
