“So that’s what he meant when he threatened us!” flared Tom. “It’s the dirtiest trick I ever heard of! Do you mean to say that he can put you out of the post-office to—to revenge himself on me?”
“I’m afraid he can,” replied Mr. Benton sadly. “And he means to do it. I talked with him again to-day and he was pretty plain.”
“But—but there are other men who have influence around here, aren’t there, sir? Why don’t you go to them and tell them what Connors is threatening to do? I’ll bet they wouldn’t stand for it a minute!”
“You don’t know the sort of politics Bill Connors plays, son,” returned his father. “He’s boss around here and the others do about as he tells them to. And unless I have the backing of his crowd I’ll never get a reappointment. No, there’s no use whining. I’ve got to meet Connors’ demands or get out.”
Tom sat silent and dismayed for a moment. Then, “Well, let him do it, sir!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be making enough money for all of us in a few months. Why, Jimmy says we can clear five thousand dollars a year pretty soon!”
“I hope he is right,” said Mr. Benton, “but that’s to be seen, Tom. Meanwhile, I’ve got to decide matters. I—I suppose you’d feel pretty bad if you had to give up the business, son?”
“I—yes, sir,” muttered Tom, “I guess I should. We—we’re just getting everything going nicely.” After a moment’s pause: “Besides, sir, if I got out that wouldn’t stop the business, would it? Will and Jimmy could keep on just the same, couldn’t they?”
“I suppose Connors means that you’re to persuade the others to give it up, too,” replied Mr. Benton with a sigh. “That wouldn’t be difficult, I guess?”
“No, sir, I suppose not,” replied Tom miserably.
There was silence in the room for several minutes. Mrs. Benton, moving quietly about the dining-room, glanced in anxiously now and then. At last, “Well, if it’s the only thing to do,” said Tom bravely, “I—we’ll have to do it, sir.” He smiled somewhat tremulously and got up. “I guess I’ll go upstairs and wash,” he murmured.