“You’ve done your share of work, anyhow, Pop,” he said; “now it’s up to your two boys to take care of you. You worked hard for ’em, and fitted ’em with the best kind of training to make their own way.”
That’s the conventional balm always put on this kind of hurt. Guess I smiled a little ironically. My two boys were having a pretty hard struggle to take care of the responsibilities they already had. George had had a good deal of sickness in his family, and Walter was supporting his wife’s parents. I had been letting them both have money.
It wouldn’t have been quite so hard if they had waited until Saturday night to discharge me. But they didn’t. It was Tuesday morning. And they were going to give me a full week’s pay because of my long service. They meant to be kind, of course, in their way-trying to let me down easy. But the offer of the full week’s pay added to my humiliation and stirred in me a lot of bitterness. My head went hot for a minute and the blood drummed in my ears. But I managed to speak quietly, and smiled when I said,-
“I only want what’s owing me. I’ve always worked for all I got.”
In going over this scene so many times since, I know that I felt something deeper than just my own bitter resentment. I had a vague sort of feeling that it was up to me to stand for the justice due to other men of my years, in my same fix. These fraternal bonds are in our blood.
The boss tried to expostulate. I stood firm. And they finally made out my time. I took what was due me, and the boss and I shook hands. I could feel him watching me until I got out of the office. I knew the kind of look that was in his face, but I didn’t turn around to see.
II
Leaving the plant that day was the hardest thing I have ever done. My first impulse was to get my coat and hat and just slip away. But my pride would not let me do that. So I braced and went back to the room where I had been working. I told some of the fellows with whom I was the best acquainted that I had been fired; and shook hands with them in farewell.
There was a pretty tight feeling in my throat. But they helped me to try and carry the thing off as something of a joke. I could see the pity, though, in their eyes.
It was raining-a cold, drizzling, late-October rain. But I did not notice it. I took the same old route I had taken for years, to the Sixth Avenue Elevated station.