“Then there is to be a shake-up?”
Oakley bit his lips. “You seem to take it for granted there is to be.”
“I guess there's something back of the rumor.”
“I may as well tell you why Hoadley's got to go.”
“Oh, he is to go, then? I thought my information was correct.”
“In the first place, he's not needed, and in the second place, he's a lazy loafer. The road must earn its keep. General Cornish is sick of putting his hand in his pocket every six months to keep it out of bankruptcy. You are enough of a business man to know he won't stand that sort of thing forever. Of course I am sorry for Hoadley if he needs the money, but some one's got to suffer, and he happens to be the one. I'll take on his work myself. I can do it, and that's a salary saved. I haven't any personal feeling in the matter. The fact that I don't like him, as it happens, has nothing to do with it. If he were my own brother he'd have to get out.”
“I can't see that one man, more or less, is going to make such a hell of a difference, Oakley,” Ryder urged, with what he intended should be an air of frank good-fellowship.
“Can't you?” with chilly dignity. Oakley was slow to anger, but he had always fought stubbornly for what he felt was due him, and he wished the editor to understand that the management of the B. & A. was distinctly not his province.
Ryder's eyes were half closed, and only a narrow slit of color showed between the lids.
“I am very much afraid we won't hit it off. I begin to see we aren't going to get on. I want you to keep Hoadley as a personal favor to me. Just wait until I finish. If you are going in for reform, I may have it in my power to be of some service to you. You will need some backing here, and even a country newspaper can manufacture public sentiment. Now if we aren't to be friends you will find me on the other side, and working just as hard against you as I am willing to work for you if you let Hoadley stay.”