“Did you have a quarrel with your employer, Percy?” said Hazel gravely.
“I don’t know what you mean by having a quarrel with my employer, Hazel,” replied the boy. “I told him that he was a confounded cad, and that I wouldn’t stand any more of his nonsense.”
“What had you been doing, Percy?”
“Doing?—doing? Why, nothing at all. It was impossible to get on with such a set of cads.”
“There must have been some reason for the quarrel,” said Hazel.
“Really, my dear, this is very foolish of you,” cried Mrs Thorne quickly. “You do not understand these things. For my part, I think Percy has done quite right. It was bad enough for the poor boy to have to submit to the degradation of going to work, without putting up with the insults of a—of a—a—”
“Set of cads, ma,” said the lad.
“Yes, my boy—cads,” said Mrs Thorne, getting rid of the word with no little show of distaste.
“I think, mamma, that out of respect to Mr Geringer, who has been so kind to us, you ought to write to Percy’s employer.”
“Haven’t got an employer now, so you can’t write to him,” said the boy sharply. “Nice sort of a welcome, this, from one’s own sister. If I’d known it was coming to this, I’d have jolly soon gone down Charles Street.”