ng morning he found this
reply on his desk when he came down to work:

Cape Town, Feb. 17, 19--.

Bluestar,
San Francisco.

Holler when you're hit. Paid for it myself. Am I to bring
Retriever home?

Peasley.

"I dare say the fellow did," Mr. Skinner informed Cappy. "He has four
months' wages coming to him at sixty dollars a month--and if he didn't,
why, I'll instruct McBride to deduct the cable charges from his wages
when he pays him off."

"I think your reference to his meager maritime experience annoyed him,
Skinner," Cappy suggested thoughtfully. "It may be that he is a most
excellent sailor. At least, he spends his money like one."

Cappy had no further comment to make, and the reply to this impudent
communication was accordingly left to Mr. Skinner, who cabled:

San Francisco, Feb. 17th, 19--.

Rickstar,
Cape Town.

No!

Bluestar.

"I think that will settle the upstart," Mr. Skinner declared confidently
as he rang for a messenger boy.

It did not. Four hours later he received this:

Cape Town, Feb. 17, 19--.

Bluestar,
San Francisco.

Why?

Peasley.

Now it was a custom of Mr. Skinner's, when a subordinate laid claim
to an inalienable right which the general manager was not willing to
concede, to regard with very grave suspicion that subordinate's loyalty
to the company. If the subordinate protested Mr. Skinner would warn him,
kindly, quietly, but none the less forcefully; and if he persisted Mr.
Skinner would dispense with the services of that subordinate so fast the
offender, nine times out of ten, would be left standing in a sort of
fog and blinking at the suddenness with which the metaphorical can had,
metaphorically speaking, been tied to his caudal appendage. Every
large business office has its Skinner--a queer combination of decency,
honesty, brains and brutality, a worshiper at the shrine of Mammon
in the temple of the great god Business, a reactionary Republican,
treasurer of his church and eventually a total loss from diabetes,
brought on by lack of exercise and worry over trifles.

However, to return to our particular Mr. Skinner and Matt Peasley, the
rebellious. In all justice to Skinner it must be admitted that his fir