After meditating for a
minute or two he called Tom from the counter.
"Mr. Catchpole, what do you mean by taking upon yourself to promise
you would obtain another grindstone?"
"Mean, sir! I do not quite understand. The two out there are of
the same sort as the one that broke, and I did not think them safe."
"Think, sir! What business had you to think? I tell you what it
is, you are much too fond of thinking. If you would only leave the
thinking to me, and do what you are told, it would be much better
for you."
Tom's first impulse was to make a sharp reply, and to express his
willingness to leave, but for certain private reasons he was silent.
Encouraged by the apparent absence of resistance, Mr. Furze
continued -
"I've meant to have a word or two with you several times. You seem
to have forgotten your position altogether, and that I am master
here, and not you. You, perhaps, do not remember where you came
from, and what you would have been if I had not picked you up. Let
there be no misunderstanding in future."
"There shall be none, sir. Shall I call at the factory and explain
your wishes about the grindstone? I will tell them I was mistaken,
and that they had better have one of those in stock."
"No, you cannot do that now; let matters remain as they are; I must
lose the sale of the stone and put up with it."
Tom withdrew. That evening, after supper, Mr. Furze, anxious to
show his wife that he possessed some power to quell opposition, told
her what had happened.
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