Obadiah turned towards the clock as if to place the blame for any misstatements of time upon that instrument. The hands pointed to five minutes past nine thereby also indicating their owner to be a liar. Again Mr. Jones spoke. Roughness replaced refinement. "For five years I have worked overtime for you, two or three afternoons a week, sometimes fifteen minutes, sometimes an hour. I also put in many an evening and some Sundays for you. I never received a word of thanks for it. Now, because I am delayed by important business and come in five minutes late, you put up a squeal as if I'd stepped on your sore corn. Say, what kind of a cheap skate are you?" the stenographer roared in conclusion. Obadiah ignored the question in haughty but uneasy silence. "You think so much of your ugly old self that you can't think of anything else. But believe me, everybody else has got your number and they're wasting no time loving you. Say," growled Mr. Jones so roughly that Obadiah jumped, "have you a friend in the world?" For an instant it appeared that the manufacturer contemplated a hurried retreat from his own office, but the pugnacious stenographer barred the way. "You hain't," announced Mr. Jones ungrammatically but emphatically, producing a gigantic roll of currency from his pocket. It was his share of the fight receipts, and, although the denominations averaged low, it bulked large to the surprised eyes of Obadiah. Mr. Jones shook the money in the face of his employer. "See that?" he inquired, as if suspecting that his employer suffered from failing eyesight. "I don't care to hold it too near to you or you might try to pinch it." Obadiah viewed the roll of bills with a repugnance astounding in him. "I had to work to get that money, last night," Mr. Jones continued. "It wasn't the easy kind of money that you pull down. But that isn't the point. Kelly and I have bought a gymnasium up the street. We intended to treat you fair--to give you full notice so that you could fill our places before we left. But as you've had to be a little meaner than usual this morning, I think we'll bid you good-bye right now. How about it, Kelly?" "I say we will," agreed that successful trainer with emphasis, and he and the fighter abruptly left the room.