But Nathan! He only remembered that his mother had fussed about the blood on the bed clothing; that his father had come in and “reeled off the same old pack of lies” about his own boyhood and ended by reminding him that if he lost his job at the tannery, God help him for the father would not, needing his money just then more than ever.
V
Nat left his bed and idled about the house. His father came home at noon and contended that if he were strong enough to “fool around the place” he was strong enough to “get back on the job.” So that afternoon Nat took an hour to reel a dizzy way to the tannery office.
Caleb looked up from a pile of freight bills.
“Dad says you wanted to see me,” announced the lad. He hoped old Gridley would “fire” him. Any job would be better than returning to the horrors of the tannery.
“Siddown,” ordered Caleb with a wave of his slab-like hand.
The boy accepted a seat and waited, his head whirling lightly. Caleb finished his business and then jerked his head toward a side room where the two could talk alone. It had an unused desk, an old iron stove, a battered table, a few chairs, an old green safe.
Caleb closed the door, motioned to a seat, found one himself and proceeded to fall into deep thought. He cut an enormous corner from a chunk of “chewin’.”
“Perty good scrap you put up the other day, bub,” he remarked at length.
Nathan sought to keep his mental balance, wishing some one would get him a drink, oh, for ice water!