"Oh, I don't know!" returned August. "Three-quarters of an hour,
maybe. I delivered my parcels all right afterwards."

Willis did not tell anybody about August's actions.

"I wish he wouldn't tell me about them, either," thought Willis,
uncomfortably.

That week August was discharged.

"I happened to be at the fire myself, and saw you," said one of the
store's proprietors to August." The next time you stop to see a
fire, you will not have a chance to keep one of our delivery carts
waiting an hour while you waste your employer's time watching the
firemen. It didn't look well to see our firm's name on that white
cart standing idle, just as if we hadn't many customers."

"And you were seen once," added the other proprietor," with one of
our carts standing beside an open block, while a ball game was being
played there last week."

As Willis regretfully saw his companion turned away, there came back
to him the scene in the semi-darkness under the wharf, when his
father said, "A Christian ought to give an honest day's work." "And
I will," he muttered.