Part 32 (1/2)
”You've made a mistake, Mr. Blaine.”
”It isn't the first one.”
”Let me tell you something--”
”I will let you.”
Marrin spoke with repression.
”Next time--don't attack both the boss and the men. It's bad policy.
Take sides.”
”Oh, I did take sides,” said Joe, lightly. ”I'm against anything treacherous.”
Marrin exploded.
”Well, you'll get yours! And let me tell you something! I've a good mind to sue you for libel and shut up your shop.”
Joe rose, and there was a dangerous light in his eyes. His hands were open at his sides, but they twitched a little.
”Then,” said Joe, ”I'll make it worth your while. If you don't want to be helped out, _get out_!”
”Very well,” sputtered Marrin, and turned, twirling his cane, and made an upright exit.
The sad Slate was paralyzed; Billy was joyous.
But Joe strode into the kitchen, where his mother was quietly reading at the window.
”What is it, Joe?”
”Mother,” he said, ”that fellow Marrin was in threatening to sue me for libel.”
”Could it hurt you?”
”It might. Speaking the truth is always libelous.”
Joe's mother spoke softly.
”Your father lost an arm in the war. You can't expect to fight without facing danger. And besides,” she laughed easily, ”you can always get a job as a printer, Joe.”
Joe paced up and down moodily, his hands clasped behind his back.
”If it was only myself--” he murmured, greatly troubled. ”I wonder where Sally is this morning.”
”Didn't she come, Joe?”
”No. Not a word from her. I'd hate her to be sick.”
”Hadn't you better send over and see?”