"Where is Thorne, this morning?" asked the owner of the shop, speaking to Moreland, one morning, an hour after all the workmen had come in.
"I do not know, really," replied Moreland. "I saw him yesterday, when he was well."
"He's off gunning, I suppose, again. If so, it is the tenth day he has lost in idleness during the last two months. I am afraid I shall have to get a hand in his place, upon whom I can place more dependence. I shall be sorry to do this for your sake, and for the sake of his wife. But I do not like such an example to the workmen and apprentices; and besides being away from the shop often disappoints a job."
"I could not blame you, sir," Moreland said; "and yet, I do hope you will bear with him for the sake of Ellen. I think if you would talk with him it would do him good."
"But, why don't you talk to him, William?"
"I have talked to him frequently, but he has got so that he won't bear it any longer from me."
"Nor would he bear it from me, either, I fear, William."
Just at that moment the subject of the conversation came in.
"You are late this morning, Henry," said the owner of the shop to him, in the presence of the other workmen.
"It's only a few minutes past the time," was replied, moodily.