it must be seven years."

"Well, maybe you _like_ to get your cute little nose rubbed on
the grindstone! I suppose you'd like to stay on at nineteen per
for the rest of your life."

"Aw, Charley, don't get sore; please don't! I'd like to get off,
all right--like to go traveling, and stuff like that. Gee! I'd
like to wander round. But I can't cut out right in the bus--"

"But can't you see, you poor nut, you won't be _leaving_
'em--they'll either pay you what they ought to or lose you."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Charley.

"Charley was making up for some uncertainty as to his own
logic by beaming persuasiveness, and Mr. Wrenn was afraid
of being hypnotized. "No, no!" he throbbed, rising.

"Well, all right!" snarled Charley, "if you like to be Gogie's
goat.... Oh, you're all right, Wrennski. I suppose you had
ought to stay, if you feel you got to.... Well, so long.
I've got to beat it over and buy a pair of socks before I go back."

Mr. Wrenn crept out of Drubel's behind him, very melancholy.
Even Charley admitted that he "had ought to stay," then; and
what chance was there of persuading the dread Mr. Mortimer R.
Guilfogle that he wished to be looked upon as one resigning?
Where, then, any chance of globe-trotting; perhaps for months he
would remain in slavery, and he had hoped just that morning--