“Didn't he send you to the pier?”
“No, sir.”
“Then how is it that you are not in the store at this time?” asked Mr. Carter, puzzled.
“Because I am no longer in Mr. Pitkin's employ. I was discharged last Saturday.”
“Discharged! What for?”
“Mr. Pitkin gave no reason. He said my services were no longer required. He spoke roughly to me, and has since declined to give me a recommendation, though I told him that without it I should be unable to secure employment elsewhere.”
Mr. Carter frowned. He was evidently annoyed and indignant.
“This must be inquired into,” he said. “Philip, call a carriage, and I will at once go to the Astor House and take a room. I had intended to go at once to Mr. Pitkin's, but I shall not do so until I have had an explanation of this outrageous piece of business.”
Phil was rejoiced to hear this, for he was at the end of his resources, and the outlook for him was decidedly gloomy. He had about made up his mind to sink his pride and go into business as a newsboy the next day, but the very unexpected arrival of Mr. Carter put quite a new face on matters.
He called a carriage, and both he and Mr. Carter entered it.