Life — February 10, 1898 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

When the head of a bu occasion to dispense with the services of a clerk, he calls him into his office and tells him so in a few brief words; the clerk bows and departs. When the same man is directed by his wife to dispense with the services of the cook, he becomes at once a cringing, nervous, and whol pitiable creature Inwardly, Witherby had arrived at this point. Being, how- ever, a man of some natural resources, he began at once to fight for time, in order to be better able to face the situ- ation in which he suddenly found him- self. The necessity of this was all the more firmly impressed upon him when he recalled the fact that the cook was a woman six feet in height, while he, in common with Napoleon, Alexander Pope iness has “Thear you are going to leave.” and other great men, was only something over five feet. He experienced a sense of keen regret when be remembered that he had neglected his exercising machine for over cight months. He began to pace the floor hastily, giving all the out- ward signs of a rising temper. “Tas she,” he asked, with a well-simu- lated brusqueness, ‘‘ prepared the din- ner?" “‘T—don't—think she has, “Then,” said Witherby, ‘‘she must do that first. She has insulted you. That is one thing. She shall be made to pay for that. But before she leaves this house she must finish up for the day.” “Tdon't think you would better try to make her, dear,” replied Mrs. With- erby. ‘She was in an awful temper. Said she would wait until you came home and she would have it out with you. I think you would just better get her out of the house. And promise me one thing, dear.” Mrs. Witherby was a woman of some spirit. She had been insulted by a ser- vant, and she was determined to get even, “What is that?” inquired Witherby. “Promise me that you won't pay her one cent of her wages beyond to-day. I don’t propose to have a creature like that get the best of us.” Witherby looked at her with a hurt expression. ‘You must think,” he said, quietly, ‘that I am not the man you took me for, if I would submit to any-