"When you know me a year or two longer, you'll know I'm several sorts of dumb animals. But I didn't call you to give you a natural history lecture. Get Duffy on the 'phone, will you, and tell him to send Keating around as soon as he can. Then come in and take some letters that I want you to let me have just as quick as you can get them off." Two hours later Tom appeared in Miss Arnold's office. She had seen him two or three times when he had come in on business, and had been struck by his square, open face and his confident bearing. She now greeted him with a slight smile. "Mr. Driscoll is waiting for you," she said; and sent him straight on through the next door. Mr. Driscoll asked Tom to be seated and continued to hold his bulging eyes on a sheet of paper which he scratched with a pencil. Tom, with a sense of impending disaster, sat waiting for his employer to speak. At length Mr. Driscoll wheeled about abruptly. "What d'you think of Foley?" "I've known worse men," Tom answered, on his guard. "You must have been in hell, then! You think better of him than I do. And better than he thinks of you. He's just been in to see me. He wants me to fire you." Tom had half-guessed this from the moment Duffy had told him Mr. Driscoll wanted him, but nevertheless he was startled by its announcement in words. He let several seconds pass, the while he got hold of himself, then asked in a hard voice: "And what are you going to do?" Mr. Driscoll knew what he was going to do, but his temper insisted on gratification before he told his plan. "What can I do?" he demanded testily. "It's your fault--the union's fault. And I don't have any sympathy to waste for anything that happens to any of you. Why don't you put a decent man in as your business agent?" Tom passed all this by. "So you're going to fire me?" "What else can I do?" Mr. Driscoll reiterated. "Hasn't my work been satisfactory?" "It isn't a question of work. If it's any satisfaction to you, I'll say that I never had a foreman that got as much or as good work out of the men." "Then you're firing me because Foley orders you to?" There were both pity and indignation in Tom's voice. Mr. Driscoll had expected to put his foreman on the defensive; instead, he found himself getting on that side. "If you want it right out, that's it. But what can I do? I'm held up." "Do?" Tom stood up before his employer, neck and face red, eyes flashing. "Why, fight him!" "I've tried that"--sarcastically--"thanks." "That's what's the matter with you bosses! You think more of dollars than you do of self-respect!" Mr. Driscoll trembled. "Young man, d'you know who you're talking to?" "I do!" Tom cried hotly. "To the man who's firing me because he's too cowardly to stand up for what's right!"