‘Ha,’ said Mr Phogg, ‘just what I expected! You are a low, common bully, Blair; a worthless, lazy brat, whom I kept only out of charity,’ he continued, his thin lips curling back from his teeth as he spoke. ‘Now you shall go—do you hear?—you shall go, be bundled, without a reference, neck and crop out into the gutter, where you can starve, or sell matches, or thieve. I dare say you’re a thief as well as’——
‘Stop!’ cried Blair, his eyes flashing fire. ‘Discharge me you can; but insult me you shall not. I am ready to go, for I’m sick to death of this place and its shady business, of you and your ape of a nephew. Give me my money and I’ll go at once.’
‘Oh Mr Phogg, please, please!’ cried poor little Mallinson, coming forward and holding out his hands appealingly; ‘it wasn’t Blair’s fault, on my honour it wasn’t. Jenkins—Mr Jenkins, I mean—boxed my ears and pinched me, and twisted my arm till I had to scream, I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t upset the ink on him on purpose. Blair only interfered because Mr Jenkins was hurting me, and he’s always at it, and Blair told him last time he wouldn’t have any more of it. Oh, please, Mr Phogg, don’t sack Blair.’
‘Silence, you little sneak!’ roared Mr Phogg; ‘leave the house, and depend upon it I’ll mention this occurrence in the character I shall give you.—Silvester, come into my room.’
Mr Phogg and his worthy nephew disappeared into the inner sanctum together; then Blair and Mallinson looked at one another, the latter almost on the verge of tears.
‘Oh Blair, what shall I do? It’s all my fault, and now you’ll have to go. I shall never, never forgive myself. What shall I do?’
Jack Blair placed an arm caressingly round the neck of the delicate-looking boy.
‘Don’t you worry, Cecil,’ he said; ‘it isn’t your fault. Ever since you got that nomination for Lidsdale’s Bank and gave Phogg notice to leave they’ve been down on you and me. There was bound to be a row, and I’m glad it’s over. I could not have stopped here much longer. I feel as though the very air of this office, with its pettifogging business, and dark, underhand methods, would choke me. I’m glad the burst-up has come. Now, cut away home, and I’ll give you a look up in the morning on the way to church.’
‘But—but—aren’t you afraid to be left here with those?’ and he pointed to the door of the private room.
Blair laughed grimly just as the door was opened and Mr Phogg shot out.