SERVING A TYRANT.
If Paul was prejudiced against the book-keeper thus early, Mr. Manson
was not prepossessed in his favor. He would have been prejudiced
against any boy who was selected to fill the place he designed for his
nephew, but besides this there was an indefinable something in Paul's
air and manner that led him to anticipate difficulty in maintaining his
authority.
"I shall have trouble with that boy, I'm thinking," he said to himself,
with a vicious stab of the pen in the unoffending paper before him.
"Well, that will be bad for him, I reckon. He looks like a mighty
independent young vagabond. I shall have to take him in training."
The duties of Paul's new place were not difficult to learn. He didn't
need to be shown the way to the post-office, or bank, and he was as
well acquainted with the streets and localities of Chicago as any boy
had occasion to be.
So when the day was over, he bade a friendly good-night to John Graves
with the remark:
"I guess I can get along by myself now, John, but I hope to see you
sometimes."
"Good-night, Paul. I hope you will get along with the book-keeper."
"I will try to," answered Paul. "That is, I will do all I can
reasonably be expected to, but I shall not allow him to run over me."
"He'll make the attempt, you may be sure of that."
"By the way, John, do you mind telling me how much pay you have
received--how much a week, I mean?"
"Four dollars a week for the first six months. Then I was promoted to
five, though the book-keeper tried hard to prevent it."
"If you had been his nephew it would have been different."
"Oh, he would have given Julius five dollars, perhaps six, to start
with."
"Very likely."
Paul was glad John did not ask him how much he was to receive, as it
would have been difficult to explain why he should be so favored.
In fact, John supposed no bargain had been made, and that Paul had
questioned him in order to ascertain what he was himself likely to be
paid.
Paul presented himself the next morning at the office at the usual
hour, which he had been told was eight o'clock.
"Good-morning, sir!" he said to the book-keeper, who had just arrived.
"Humph, you're late!" said Manson, sourly.
Just then a public clock struck eight, and the strokes were audible to
both.
"Not by that clock, Mr. Manson," said Paul, significantly.
"Humph! that clock's always slow."
Paul did not think it necessary to answer.
"Well, go to work! Don't stand idling there!" said Manson, sharply.
"Yes, sir, if you will let me know what to do," said Paul, not in the
least nervous.
"Dust off my desk, and be quick about it."
Paul did as he was directed.
"Now go to the post-office. Wait, here is the key to our box."
Paul went and returned immediately, making unusually good time, but it
is easy for an unreasonable man to find fault, if he has fully made up
his mind to do so.
"What made you so long?" demanded the book-keeper, irascibly.
Paul was provoked, and had no hesitation in showing his sense of the
book-keeper's unreasonableness.
"Because I haven't wings, or seven league boots," he answered, coolly.
"How do you dare speak thus to me?" demanded Manson, in a rage.
"Because, sir, neither you nor any one else can make better time
without running."
As Paul said this, he looked Mr. Manson in the eye, and Manson saw that
the boy did not mean to be imposed upon. But he did not propose to
relinquish his habit of finding fault readily.
"That's gammon!" he said; "I know what boys are like. They all waste
time."
"I don't," answered Paul, briefly.
"Don't be impudent."
"Then, sir, don't be unreasonable."
"I have a good mind to discharge you on the spot," said the book-keeper.
"As you please, sir. If Mr. Bradford sustains you, I shall make no
request to remain."
Manson felt that he had not come out of the controversy best. Paul
exhibited a coolness and composure that surprised and annoyed him.
"He won't stay here long, if I can help it," he said to himself. "Why,
he actually defies me."
Nevertheless, Paul's quiet resolution made him more wary in his
dealings with Paul, as he did not like to run the risk of defeat.
"You can take this note to Mr. Bradford," he said, an hour later.
He would have preferred to send some one else, for he did not care that
Paul should have an opportunity of getting into the good graces of his
employer; but he had no choice. This was the boy's duty, and no one
else could be spared.
The note related to business on which Mr. Bradford would expect to be
consulted.
"Take that," he said, "and come back some time to-day."
"I shall come back as soon as Mr. Bradford releases me."
"Take care you do."
All this was very annoying, and, indeed, insulting, but Paul was
judicious, and, while resisting aggression and injustice, knew that he
could not make Mr. Manson civil or polite.
Arrived at the house of Mr. Bradford, Paul was shown into the presence
of the manufacturer.
"Good-morning, Paul!" said Mr. Bradford, pleasantly.
"Good-morning, sir. I have come with a note from Mr. Manson."
Mr. Bradford took it and read it quickly. He took out a pencil and
wrote at the bottom a couple of lines.
"That is my answer," he said, returning it to Paul.
"How do you like Mr. Manson?" asked the manufacturer.
"Not very well, sir."
"I suppose he does not appear to like you?"
"No, sir; it is very clear he does not."
Paul stopped there.
"Have you any complaints to make?" asked Mr. Bradford.
"No, sir; I don't care to say anything; but I would like to ask you a
favor."
"What is it, Paul?"
"If Mr. Manson makes any complaints against me, will you give me an
opportunity to defend myself?"
"Certainly I will. Do you apprehend that he will complain of you?"
"I am pretty sure he will."
"Why?"
"He seems determined to find fault with me. However, I shall not be
the first to complain. I propose to do my duty faithfully, and will
bear his scolding as well as I can. If I suit you, sir, I shall be
satisfied. I don't expect to suit Mr. Manson."
"Well said, Paul. I won't inquire into your relations with the
book-keeper, but if he complains of you, you may rest assured that I
will give you a chance to defend yourself."
"Thank you, sir; that is all I ask."
Paul returned to the office, and when, as he expected, Mr. Manson
charged him with loitering on the way, he heard him with a cool
contempt, which angered the book-keeper more than spoken words.
"Really, this is the most impertinent boy we ever had in the office. He
does not seem to mind me any more than if I was a porter."
Accustomed to have boys quail before him, he was provoked at the
coolness with which Paul bore his taunts and reproaches, and he felt
all the more resolved either to get him dismissed, or to make him
anxious to resign.
Among other things, he was accustomed to employ the office-boy to run
on his private errands, though, of course, wholly unauthorized to do
so, and he expected to employ Paul in the same manner.
About three o'clock he summoned Paul, and said to him:
"You may go to my room, No. 47 H---- street, and ask my landlady
to give you a bundle of dirty clothes, which you will carry to the
laundry, No. 18 M---- street."
Paul looked at him in astonishment.
"Are the clothes Mr. Bradford's?" he asked.
"No, you little fool, they are mine."
"Then, sir, I must decline to take them. I am in Mr. Bradford's employ,
not yours."
"Do you decline to do as I bid you?" gasped Manson, at white heat.
"Yes, sir. I am not employed to do any such work."
"You'll repent this!" exclaimed the book-keeper, mortified and
incensed. "It seems you defy my authority."
"No, sir; I shall do whatever you have a right to demand of me."
"I'll have you out of this office before the end of the week. See if I
don't."
Paul walked away, not appearing in the least terrified by this threat.