“Well, just tell him this,” said the angry housekeeper, “if you’re to be his messenger, that when he pays me the two years’ wages that’s due me he can talk about discharging me, and not before.”
“Oh, of course,” said Chap, as he sauntered away, “he’ll square up before he tells you to march.”
“I got a good point on her,” said Chap, while giving an account of his morning’s work to Phil, “when she admitted that in one way she could be discharged. But she threw up pretty heavy earthworks when she told about that two years’ wages. It must amount to a lot of cash. I wonder how it came to run on so long?”
Phil was furious when he heard what Susan had said. He paid no attention to Chap’s remarks, but marched into the dining-room, where the housekeeper was getting the table ready for dinner.
“Susan,” he said, “if you don’t put that gun back into its place, and obey me in other things, just as you would my uncle, I’ll make you leave this house, and I’ll go in town and get the money from Mr. Welford to pay you everything that is owing to you.”
Susan was too enraged to answer. She merely sniffed, stiffened her back, and went on with her work.
“Do you feel refreshed?” said Chap, when Phil returned to the porch. “I heard what you said, but don’t you think it was something like a breach of contract?”
“Can’t help it,” said Phil. “She’s got to knock under or go.”
“Now, look here,” said his friend. “You’ve bared your blade, and that’s all right; but just hold your heavy hand for a while, and let me hurl another javelin. You’ll do that, won’t you?”
“All right,” said Phil. “I’ll wait a couple of days.”