"No more of your impudence!" said the clerk, sharply. "Wait here a minute till I speak to Mr. Gripp."
He kept Dan before the counter, and approached the proprietor.
"Well, what is it, Samuel?" asked Mr. Gripp, stroking his jet-black whiskers. "Are the vests all right?"
"Pretty well, sir, but the boy is impudent."
"Ha! how is that?"
"He keeps calling me 'young feller.'"
"Anything more?"
"He don't seem to have any respect for me—or you," he added, shrewdly.
Nathan Gripp frowned. He cared very little about his clerk, but he resented any want of respect to himself. He felt that the balance at his bankers was large enough to insure him a high degree of consideration from his work-people at least.
"How many vests are there?" he asked.