“Mr. John,” she said, holding out a letter, “here is a letter from that boy. I expected he would write to your uncle.”
John Wade deliberately opened the letter.
“Sit down, Mrs. Bradley, and I will read the letter aloud.”
It will be only necessary to quote the concluding sentences:
“‘I hope, Mr. Wharton, you will not be influenced against me by what Mrs. Bradley and your nephew say. I don’t know why it is, but they are my enemies, though I have always treated them with respect. I am afraid they have a desire to injure me in your estimation. If they had not been, they would have been content with driving me from your house, without also slandering me to my employers, and inducing them to discharge me. Since I was discharged, I have tried very hard to get another place, but as I cannot bring a recommendation from Gilbert & Mack, I have everywhere been refused. I ask you, Mr. Wharton to consider my situation. Already my small supply of money is nearly gone, and I do not know how I am to pay my expenses. If it was any fault of mine that had brought me into this situation, I would not complain, but it seems hard to suffer when I am innocent.
“‘I do not ask to return to your house, Mr. Wharton, for it would not be pleasant, since your nephew and Mrs. Bradley dislike me, but I have a right to ask that the truth may be told to my employers, so that if they do not wish me to return to their service, they may, at least, be willing to give me a recommendation that will give me a place elsewhere.”’
“I must prevent the boy communicating with my uncle, if it is a possible thing. ‘Strike while the iron is hot,’ I say.”
“I think that is very judicious, Mr. John. I have no doubt you will know how to manage matters.”
John Wade dressed himself for a walk, and drawing out a cigar, descended the steps of his uncle’s house into the street.
He reached Fifth Avenue, and walked slowly downtown. He was about opposite Twenty-eighth Street, when he came face to face with the subject of his thoughts.