"Tell him to wait."
He read it, and threw it over to me. It was from Parker, who informed Mr. Morgeson that he was going by the morning's train to Boston, thinking it was time for him to leave his employ; that, though the fault was his own in the difficulty of the day before, a Yankee could not stand a knock-down. It was too damned aristocratic for an employer to have that privilege; our institutions did not permit it. He thanked Mr. Morgeson for his liberality; he couldn't thank him for being a good fellow. "And would he oblige him by sending per bearer the arrears of salary?"
"Parker is in love with a factory girl. He quarreled with one of the hands because he was jealous of him, and would have been whipped by the man and his friends; to spare him that, I knocked him down. Do you feel better now, Cassy?"
"Better? How does it concern me?"
He laughed.
"Put Black Jake in the wagon," he called to Jesse.
Alice heard him and came downstairs; we went out on the piazza, to see him off. "Why do you go?" she asked, in an uneasy tone.
"I must. Wont you go too?"
She refused; but whispered to me, asking if I were afraid?
"Of what?"