“He was not a bootblack then,” retorted Hector, “nor would he be now but for your mean spite. Mr. Roscoe, as I happen to know, my father always valued the services of Reuben Deane, and I ask, in his name, that you give him back his place.”
“My brother may have been deceived in him,” said Allan Roscoe, coldly, emphasizing the first two words, in order to remind Hector that he was no longer to consider him as his father; “but I cannot promise to adopt all his views and protege’s. I have displaced Deane and substituted for him a gardener with whom I am better pleased.”
“Have you no sympathy for the poverty and distress of a man who has served our family faithfully for so many years?” asked Hector, half indignantly.
“My father is competent to manage his own affairs,” said Guy, offensively.
“You don’t appear to think so, or you would not answer for him,” retorted Hector.
“Boys, I must request you to desist from this bickering,” said Allan Roscoe. “I am sorry, Hector, that I cannot comply with your request. By the way, you did not tell me where you were staying.”
“With a gentleman on Forty-second Street.”
“What is his name?”
“Andrew Ross.”
“Not the eminent merchant of that name?” asked Allan Roscoe, in surprise.