“Give those I ’ve marked to Hanscom. Have the rest ready in the morning. I shall dictate.”
“Yes, sir.” The young man finished gathering them up.
The man glanced again, half-impatiently, at the heavy face. The room seemed suddenly gloomy, in spite of the red-hot wires looping the light about them.
The young man brought a hat and coat and laid them beside his employer. “May I speak to you a minute, sir?” he asked as he put them down.
The other glanced again, sharply, at his face. “Go ahead.” His hand was reaching for the hat.
“I shall have to hand in my resignation, sir.” The young man said it slowly, as if repeating something he had learned by heart.
The hand on the hat drew back. “What ’s that?” He laughed curtly and shot a look of suspicion at the impassive face. “More money?”
The face flushed. “No, sir.” He hesitated a little. “My mother is sick.”
“Umph!” The man’s face cleared. “You don’t need to resign for that.” He did not ask what was the matter with the mother. He had not known that John had a mother. She seemed to be springing into existence very inconveniently. “Get a nurse,” he said.
“She has had a nurse. But she needs me, I think.” He did not offer more details.