He thought she was looking for a handkerchief.
"But I insist, Mrs. Millidew, that I—"
"You can't resign for the simple reason that you're already fired," she sputtered. "I never allow any one to give me notice, young man. No one ever left me without being discharged, let me tell you that. Where the dev—Oh, here it is!" She not only had found the pocket but the crisp slip of paper that it contained. "Here is a check for your week's wages. It isn't up till next Monday, but take it and get out. I never want to see your ugly face again."
She crumpled the bit of paper in her hand and threw the ball in his direction. Its flight ended half-way down the steps.
"Come and get it, if you want it," she said.
"Good day, madam," he said crisply, and turned on his heel.
"How many times must I tell you not to call me—Come back here, Dolly! I want to see you."
But her tall, perplexed daughter-in-law passed out through the door, followed by the erect and lordly Mr. Trotter.
"Good-bye, Tommie," whispered Katie, as he donned his grey fedora.
"Good-bye, Katie," he said, smiling, and held out his hand to her. "You heard what she said. If you should ever think of resigning, I'd suggest you do it in writing and from a long way off." He looked behind the vestibule door and recovered a smart little walking-stick. "Something to lean upon in my misfortune," he explained to Katie.