“Don't put on any airs, boy!” returned Pitkin. “We don't want you, that's all.”
“You might have given me a little notice,” said Phil indignantly.
“We made no stipulation of that kind, I believe.”
“It would only be fair, sir.”
“No impertinence, young man! I won't stand it! I don't need any instructions as to the manner of conducting my business.”
Phil by this time perceived that his discharge was decided upon without any reference to the way in which he had performed his duties, and that any discussion or remonstrance would be unavailing.
“I see, sir, that you have no regard for justice, and will leave you,” he said.
“You'd better, and without delay!” said Pitkin irascibly.
Phil emerged upon the street with a sinking heart. His available funds consisted only of the money he had just received and seventy-five cents in change, and what he was to do he did not know. He walked home with slow steps, looking sad in spite of his usually hopeful temperament.
When he entered the house he met Mrs. Forbush in the hall. She at once noticed his gravity.