"Pick up my handkerchief, boy!" he said, in a lofty tone.
"I can't leave my place behind the counter."
"Pick it up, I say!" said Loammi, stamping his foot.
"That is not what I am hired to do," retorted Harold, indignant at the other's tone.
"What is your name?"
"Harold Kent."
"I won't forget it," said Loammi, significantly.
When, on Saturday night, Harold was paid his weekly wages he was told that he need not report for duty on Monday morning.
"Why is this?" asked Harold, in dismay.
"Loammi has complained of you," he was told.