“Well, it is really a demand for an increase in wages. The others, I believe, are mere frills. And between ourselves, sir, though I haven't gone into it very carefully, I am not sure but that an increase in wages is about due.”
Maitland glowered at his son in a hurt and hopeless rage.
“An increase in wages due?” he said. “After the increase of six months ago? The thing is preposterous. The ungrateful scoundrels!”
At this point the telephone upon his desk rang. Jack took up the receiver.
“Good morning, Mr. McGinnis. . . . Yes, he is here. Yes. . . . At least, I suppose so. . . . Oh, I don't know. . . . It is rather peremptory. . . . All right, sir, I shall tell him.”
“Let me talk to him,” said his father, impatiently.
“Never mind just now, Dad,” said Jack, with his hand over the receiver. Then through the telephone he said: “All right, sir; he will await you here. Good morning.”
“. . . The old boy is wild,” said Jack with a slight laugh. “The wires are quite hot.”
“This is no joke, Jack, I can tell you. McGinnis is coming over, is he?”
“Yes,” replied Jack, “but we won't get much help from him.”