“Besides with fifty thousand dollars I can live as well as I want to in New Hampshire, and hold up my head with the best. You will follow my example some day.”
“It will be a long day first, Mr. Bailey, for I am only sixteen.”
On Monday morning the old landlord started for his Eastern home and Rodney took his place. It took him some little time to become familiar with all the details of hotel management, but he spared no pains to insure success. He had some trouble at first with the cook who presumed upon his position and Rodney’s supposed ignorance to run things as he chose.
Rodney complained to Mr. Pettigrew.
“I think I can fix things, Rodney,” he said. “There’s a man working for me who used to be cook in a restaurant in New York. I found out about him quietly, for I wanted to be prepared for emergencies. The next time Gordon act contrary and threatens to leave, tell him he can do as he pleases. Then report to me.”
The next day there came another conflict of authority.
“If you don’t like the way I manage you can get somebody else,” said the cook triumphantly. “Perhaps you’d like to cook the dinner yourself. You’re nothing but a boy, and I don’t see what Jefferson was thinking of to put you in charge.”
“That is his business, Mr. Gordon.”
“I advise you not to interfere with me, for I won’t stand it.”
“Why didn’t you talk in this way to Mr. Bailey?”