“Yes, but maybe you don't realize the amount of the obligations. I'm riskin' my job keepin' you here. If it wa'n't for the superintendent bein' such a friend of mine, there'd have been a reg'lar assistant keeper app'inted long ago. The gov'ment don't pick up its lightkeepers same as you would farm hands. There's civil service to be gone through, and the like of that. But you wanted to stay, and I've kept you, riskin' my own job, as I said. And now I cal'late we'd better have a plain understandin'. You've got to know just what your job is. I'm goin' to tell you.”
He stopped, as if to let this sink in. Brown nodded again. “All right,” he observed, carelessly; “go on and tell me; I'm listening.”
“Your job around the lights you know already, part of it. But there's somethin' else. Whenever men folks come here, I'll do my share of showin' the place off. But when women come—women, you understand—you've got to be guide. I'll forgive you to-day's doin's. I tried to play a joke on you, and you evened it up with a better one on me. That's all right. But, after this, showin' the lights to females is your job, and you've got to do it—or get out. No hard feelin's at all, and I'd really hate to lose you, but THAT'S got to be as I say.”
He rose, evidently considering the affair settled. Brown caught his coat and pulled him back to the bench.
“Wait, Atkins,” he said. “I'm grateful to you for your kindness, I like you and I'd like to please you; but if what you say is final, then—as they used to say in some play or other—'I guess you'll have to hire another boy.'”
“What? You mean you'll quit?”
“Rather than do that—yes.”
“But why?”
“For reasons, as I told you. By the way, you haven't told me why you object to acting as guide to—females.”
“Because they are females. They're women, darn 'em!”