“I wasn’t thinking about you,” said Mr. Sikes. “I don’t believe Oliver means what he says.”
“Like as not he never said it,” put in Mr. Link, eyeing old Oliver darkly.
“Oh, yes, he did,” said the latter cheerfully, and not in the least offended by the implication. “Didn’t you, Oliver?”
Oliver’s and Jane’s eyes met. She was standing beside her father a little apart from the garrulous group. He saw something in her dark, unsmiling eyes that puzzled him—something he was a long, long time in fathoming.
“The truth of the matter is,” he said seriously, “I have other plans. I appreciate the honor. The pay has nothing to do with my decision. I love the old burg and I am proud to have been born here. I have just given up a job that has been paying me nearly four times as much as what I would be getting here, Mr. Belding. And it will be open to me whenever I choose to go back with the company. That is understood. I—”
“You say you’ve quit your job?” broke in his father, aghast.
“Yes, sir,” quietly. “I gave it up last week.”
“A job paying more than seven thousand a year?”
“Just seven thousand, to be exact.”
“Well, of all the idiotic—”