V
He found Hepp in his Lenox Avenue store; Hepp had five of these basement establishments, devoted to selling samples and jobs at cut prices.
"Well?" snapped Hepp, contracting his flaxen eyebrows.
"Mr. Hepp," mumbled Paul, "I find I made a mistake."
"About time you found that out—seeing that you've been making nothing but mistakes ever since I took you on. Well, what do you want me to do about it?"
"I'd like my job back, Mr. Hepp. I've been thinking it over, and I see where I was wrong, and I see the right thing to do is to come back and tell you. If you take me on again, Mr. Hepp, you'll never get a chance to fire me again!"
Hepp grunted, with a twinkle of malice in his eyes. "I don't know what you want to work for a slave-driver like me for."
"You're not a slave-driver, Mr. Hepp. You always treated me pretty white!"
"Excepting for the salary. Seeing that I am a darned old tight-wad and that you know all about the shoe business already, I don't see what you want to come in here for. I'm nothing but an old fool!"