"I don't care what you were doing last night,—that is your affair, not mine. You come to me at once at the same wages—"
"I beg your pardon," he broke in. "I mean to say I am not seeking another situation."
"If it is a question of pay, I will give you ten dollars a week more than you were receiving here. Now, don't haggle. That is sixty dollars a week. Hurry up! Decide! She will be out here in a minute. Oh, thunder!"
The same door banged open and the voice of Mrs. Millidew, the elder, preceded its owner by some seconds in the race to the front.
"You are not fired, Trotter," she squealed. Her head, considerably dishevelled, appeared alongside the gay spring bonnet that bedecked her daughter-in-law. "You ought to be fired for what you did last night, but you are not. Do you understand? Now, shut up, Dolly! It doesn't matter if I did say I was going to fire him. I've changed my mind."
"You are too late," said the younger Mrs. Millidew coolly. "I've just engaged him. He comes to me at—"
"You little snake!"
"Ladies, I beg of you—"
"The next time I let him go gallivanting off with you for a couple of days—and nights,—you'll know it," cried the elder Mrs. Millidew, furiously. "I can see what you've been up to. You've been doing everything in your power to get him away from me—"
"Just what do you mean to insinuate, Mother Millidew?" demanded the other, her voice rising.