“Don’t sass me and don’t argue! This is my business and you’re my son! I propose to run both in any way I please.”
And Johnathan slammed out the door, fully persuaded that no man’s earthly trial is greater than headstrong offspring.
The pay envelopes were made out that afternoon, Johnathan getting great enjoyment from writing the names on each in a very precise hand and admiring his penmanship with great self-pride. When they were filled, he took them upstairs personally. “Paying off” was something he always reserved for himself. It gave dignity to the owner of a business. The help thereby associated him with money. Finally the Richards girl’s envelope remained.
“You give her this, and explain why it’s short,” the father ordered, tossing it across to the boy when he returned to the office. Such a thing was good discipline for obstreperous youth.
Nathan removed his overalls and went upstairs. He had eight dollars clandestinely removed from the petty cash.
‘There’s a mistake in your envelope, Milly,” he said. “It only holds ten dollars. So here’s the other eight to make it right. And Milly?”
“Yes?”
“Monday morning I’m not coming back. If you know of a better job, you’d better take it.”
“Where you goin’, Nathan?”
“Back to the tannery, to keep the books for Mr. Gridley.”