"What about the work?"
"One day out won't wreck the crops," hazarded Jack.
"Don't stand here arguing all night," urged Richard. "Come on—I'm going to bed."
Warren paid no attention and continued to address Jack.
"If you don't turn out in the morning I'll know you've quit," he said.
"I'm not fired till Mr. Hildreth says so," angrily retorted Jack.
"You work to-morrow, or you're through," declared Warren, a steel edge to his voice. "I'm bossing this job and it doesn't happen to be one that can wait anyone's personal convenience."
They tramped upstairs to their rooms, Jack inwardly seething. He took off one shoe and hurled it across the bed as a relief to his feelings.
He'd show Warren Baker! It was a pity if a fellow had to ask him every time he wanted a few hours to himself—he didn't have to have money, anyway—he'd let the old job slide. He had come up voluntarily to "hire out" and he didn't intend to be treated like a day laborer.
The other shoe followed the first.