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RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE

restlessly. The old rancor and dislike came back to his thin, shrewd face.

"You'll regret it!" he mumbled.

"I hope not," said Ralph, rising also.

"Young man," observed Farrington, stabbing at his guest with a quivering finger, "I warn you that you are taking an obstinate and fatal course."

"Warn?" echoed Ralph—"that is pretty strong language, isn't it, Mr. Farrington?"

"And I mean it to be so!" cried Farrington, casting aside all disguise. "I said I had influence. I have. You can't work for the Great Northern in Stanley Junction, if I say not."

Ralph stared at the speaker incredulously. He could not comprehend how Farrington could show the bad policy to put himself on record with such a remark, be his intentions what they might.

"In fact, sir," said Ralph, "you mean to intimate that you will get me discharged?"

"I mean just that," unblushingly admitted Farrington. "I will allow no pauper brood to stand in the way of my—of my——"

Ralph felt the blood surge hotly to his temples. With a strong effort he controlled himself.

"Mr. Farrington," he said quietly, though his voice trembled a trifle, "you have said quite enough. I want to tell you that you are a wicked,