n Zelotes dropped his quiet sarcasm
and spoke sharp and brisk: "See here," he said, "do you realize that
this sheet of paper I've got here is what stands for a day's work done
by you yesterday? And on this sheet there was no less than four silly
mistakes that a child ten years old hadn't ought to make, that an
able-bodied idiot hadn't ought to make. But YOU made 'em, and they kept
Labe Keeler here till three o'clock this mornin'. Now what have you got
to say for yourself?"
As a matter of fact, Albert had very little to say, except that he was
sorry, and that his grandfather evidently did not consider worth the
saying. He waved the protestation aside.
"Sorry!" he repeated impatiently. "Of course you're sorry, though even
at that I ain't sure you're sorry enough. Labe was sorry, too, I don't
doubt, when his bedtime went by and he kept runnin' afoul of one of your
mistakes after another. I'm sorry, darned sorry, to find out that
you can make such blunders after three years on board here under such
teachin' as you've had. But bein' sorry don't help any to speak of. Any
fool can be sorry for his foolishness, but if that's all, it don't help
a whole lot. Is bein' sorry the best excuse you've got to offer? What
made you make the mistakes in the first place?"
Albert's face was darkly red under the lash of his grandfather's tongue.
Captain Zelotes and he had had disagreements and verbal encounters
before, but never since they had been together had the captain spoken
like this. And the young fellow was no longer seventeen, he was twenty.
The flush began to fade from his cheeks and the pallor which meant the
rise of the Speranza temper took its place.
"What made you make such fool blunders?" repeated the captain. "You knew
better, didn't you?"
"Yes," sullenly, "I suppose I did."
"You know mighty well you did. And as nigh as I can larn from what I
got out of Laban--which wasn't much; I had to pump it out of him word
by word--this ain't the first set of mistakes you've made. You make 'em
right along. If it wasn't for him helpin' you out and coverin' up your
mistakes, this firm would be in hot water with its customers two-thirds
of the time and the books would be fust-rate as a puzzle, somethin' to
use for a guessin' match, but plaguey little good as straight accounts
of a goin' concern. Now what makes you act this way? Eh? What makes
you?"
"Oh, I don't know. See here, Grandfather--"
"Hold on a minute. You don't kno
|