"I cannot lend you money, if that's what you mean," said Ezra, brusquely.
"It isn't. I find that one of your cash boys is the son of an old friend of ours—Mary Mead, formerly Mary Grant."
"Yes; I gave the boy a place in order to help her."
"You pay him two dollars and a half a week. There are only two boys, and this is very small."
"It is all I pay any of the boys."
"But Willie is a well-grown boy of fourteen. Surely, out of old friendship, and to help his mother, you can pay him more."
"Have you been talking to Mrs. Mead, and encouraged her to think that I will increase her boy's wages?"
"Yes."
"Then you have done a foolish thing. I decline. I am half inclined to discharge the boy."
"It won't be necessary. He will leave the store at the end of the week."