valued Lieders, and made an excuse to half apologize to him,
I fear Thekla's stratagems would have done little good.

The next experience was cut out of the same piece of cloth.
He had relented, he had allowed his wife to save him;
but he was angry in secret. Then came the day when open
disobedience to Lossing's orders had snapped the last thread
of Harry's patience. To Lieders's aggrieved "If you ain't
satisfied with my work, Mr. Lossing, I kin quit," the answer
had come instantly, "Very well, Lieders, I'm sorry to lose you,
but we can't have two bosses here: you can go to the desk."
And when Lieders in a blind stab of temper had growled a prophecy
that Lossing would regret it, Lossing had stabbed in turn:
"Maybe, but it will be a cold day when I ask you to come back."
And he had gone off without so much as a word of regret.
The old workman had packed up his tools, the pet tools
that no one was ever permitted to touch, and crammed
his arms into his coat and walked out of the place
where he had worked so long, not a man saying a word.
Lieders didn't reflect that they knew nothing of the quarrel.
He glowered at them and went away sore at heart. We make
a great mistake when we suppose that it is only the affectionate
that desire affection; sulky and ill-conditioned souls often
have a passionate longing for the very feelings that they repel.
Lieders was a womanish, sensitive creature under the surly mask,
and he was cut to the quick by his comrades' apathy.
"There ain't no place for old men in this world," he thought,
"there's them boys I done my best to make do a good job,
and some of 'em I've worked overtime to help; and not one of 'em
has got as much as a good-by in him for me!"