“Interfering with his business!” exclaimed Willard. “Well, why shouldn’t you interfere with it if you want to?”
Mr. Duff shook his head and blinked. “He don’t like it.”
“Well, what of it? Haven’t you a perfect right to make a living?”
“I s’pose so,” sighed Mr. Duff.
“Then why do you let him tell you what you shall do or sha’n’t do?” demanded Tom impatiently. “Gee, you’d think Connors owned this town!”
Mr. Duff viewed him thoughtfully for a moment. Then, “Well, he owns the house I’m a-livin’ in, anyway,” he said reproachfully.
“Oh, he does!”
“Yep.” Mr. Duff nodded slowly. “And he says he might have to raise my rent five dollars a month on me. Says if his business don’t improve he’ll have to.”
“I see.” Willard nodded his head thoughtfully. “And he doesn’t want you to haul any more baggage from the station, eh?”
“That’s what he said.”