“You're a mighty conscientious young man,” sneered Smith, “You're altogether too pious to succeed in business. I discharge you from my employment.”
“Very well, sir,” said Paul, his heart sinking, but keeping up a brave exterior, “then I have only to bid you good-morning.”
“Good-morning, sir,” said his employer with mock deference, “I advise you to study for the ministry, and no longer waste your talents in selling calico.”
Paul made no reply, but putting on his cap walked out of the store. It was the middle of the week, and Mr. Smith was, of course, owing him a small sum for his services; but Paul was too proud to ask for his money, which that gentleman did not see fit to volunteer.
“I am sure I have done right,” thought Paul. “I had no right to misrepresent the goods to that lady. I wonder what Uncle Hugh will say.”
“You did perfectly right,” said the sexton, after Paul had related the circumstances of his dismissal. “I wouldn't have had you act differently for twenty situations. I have no doubt you will get a better position elsewhere.”
“I hope so,” said Paul. “Now that I have lost the situation, Uncle Hugh, I don't mind saying that I never liked it.”
Now commenced a search for another place. Day after day Paul went out, and day after day he returned with the same want of success.
“Never mind, Paul,” said the sexton encouragingly. “When you do succeed, perhaps you'll get something worth waiting for.”
One morning Paul went out feeling that something was going to happen,—he didn't exactly know what,—but he felt somehow that there was to be a change in his luck. He went out, therefore, with more hopefulness than usual; yet, when four o'clock came, and nothing had occurred except failure and disappointment, which unhappily were not at all out of the ordinary course, Paul began to think that he was very foolish to have expected anything.