"No, I won't, and I want you to clear out," replied Silas Fells.
"Very well; you'll be sorry for this; see if you aint!" exclaimed Andrew Gresson, and he rolled out of the place and up the street.
A minute later, Franklin also left. Up at the corner of the street he came face to face with the discharged workman, who grabbed him by the arm.
"So you're the feller as is goin' to do me out of my job!" cried Gresson, savagely.
"No," replied Franklin, stoutly, "Mr. Fells wanted a man, and I secured the place."
"It's the same thing."
"I don't think so. If you had remained sober he would not have discharged you."
"I don't want no preachin' from a boy! I ain't a-goin to stand it!"
"What are you going to do?" asked Franklin, curiously.
"Never mind; you'll see."
"Why don't you sober up and then, perhaps Mr. Fells will take you back."
"He'd take me back anyway, if he knew what was best for him," growled Andrew Gresson. "He won't gain nothin' by dischargin' me. I was the best man he ever had, and he knows it."
"I imagine Mr. Fells knows his own business best," returned Franklin, briefly.
