“I must finish these accounts to-night,” said Jack.
“I tell you I’m not going to be kept here half an hour just to please you,” replied Harris.
“We’re not supposed to stop work till seven,” said Jack; “that’s the time we always work to when Mr Barnacle is here. And it’s only half-past six now.”
“What business of yours is it when we’re supposed to work to, Mr Prig?” demanded Harris, savagely. “You’re under my orders here, and you’ll do what I tell you.”
“I’m under Mr Barnacle’s orders,” said Jack, going on with his writing.
“You mean to say you’re not going to do what I tell you?” asked Harris, in a rage.
“I’m going to do what’s right—that’s all,” said Smith, quietly.
“Right! You humbug! You’re a nice respectable fellow to talk about right to us, Mr Gaol-bird! As if we didn’t know who you are! You son of a thief and swindler! Right, indeed! We don’t want to hear about right from you!”
Jack gave one startled, scared, upward look as he spoke; but it was turned not to the speaker, but to me. I shall never forget that look. I could have sunk into the earth with shame and misery as I encountered it.
He closed the ledger, and with white face and quivering lips took his hat and walked silently from the office.