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ly. "You rat! Out of my way!" The auctioneer placed his hand upon the boy's arm, with the intention of hurling him aside. But, strange to say, although he was taller than the youth, he could not budge the latter for several seconds, and by that time the young lady had disappeared, swallowed up in the noonday crowd which surged past the door. "Now see what you have done!" stormed Caleb Gulligan wrathfully. "You have aided that young woman to escape!" "That's just what I meant to do," returned Matt, with a coolness that would have been exasperating to even a less sensitive man than the crusty auctioneer. "I shall hold you responsible for it!" "I don't care if you do," was Matt's dogged reply. "She's my friend, and I always stick up for my friends." At this last remark there was a low murmur of approval from those gathered about. Evidently, the boy's unpolished but honest manner had won considerable admiration. "Do you know that I can have you locked up?" "What for?" "For aiding her to escape." "Didn't she have a right to hurry away if she wanted to go? It's almost one o'clock--I'll have to be off myself soon, if I want to keep my job." There was a laugh at this, and half a dozen looked at their watches and left. "If you please," put in the assistant nervously. "Had we not better go on with the sales? The crowd will be gone before long. We might make more than what was lost here." "Certainly, go on with the sales," howled Caleb Gulligan. "I will take care of this young rascal, and find out what has become of that young woman." "And that man," began the assistant. "Never mind the man; the young woman shall pay for the damage done, and she can fix it up with the man afterward, if she wishes. I am not going to stand the loss." "It seems to me you are making an awful row over a fifteen-cent piece of plaster-of-paris," said Matt to Gulligan, as Andrew Dilks turned toward the auctioneer's stand. "Why didn't you ask me to pay for the stuff and done?" "Plaster-of-paris!" cried the auctioneer wrathfully. "That is real Italian marble----" "Made in Centre street," interrupted Matt. "And it is worth every cent of ten dollars----" "Ten dollars a carload, you mean," went on the boy. "Come, let go of me; I've got to go to work." "You'll go to the Tombs!" "No, I won't. I have done nothing wrong, and I want you to let go of me." Matt began to struggle, much to the delight of the s
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