"You blamed idiot!" burst out the raging foreman. "You leave the man alone! Do you think that he don't know how to mix concrete? Leave him alone, I say!"
But Challoner, now, was not a man to be so easily turned from his orders; and again he insisted:—
"Two more barrels of cement, I told you!"
And he kept on insisting so strenuously, that a little knot of labourers gathered around them to await the result. Finally, the foreman saw that the head-superintendent was coming toward them from far down the street.
"All right, then," he conceded reluctantly, "make it two more barrels of cement."
But that same afternoon, the foreman singled Challoner out and paid him. Then he lunged out, and striking Challoner on the shoulder lightly, he exclaimed:—
"There, you infernal jackass! You're discharged!"
"Discharged!" The exclamation fell from his lips before Challoner could check it; and notwithstanding his great disappointment, he made no further comment, but turned on his heel and left. The next day, however, he brought his case before the head-superintendent, who said:—
"If Perkins discharged you, I can't help it. I won't interfere."
"But what was I discharged for?"