Well, I received a letter from the general manager this morning.

Either Chittenden must join or go; otherwise the men will go out September first." "What shall you do ?" "I shall keep Chittenden.

I am master there," striking the arm of his chair; "master in everything.

If they go out in September, it will be for good.

I shall tear down the shops and build model tenements." "John!" "I am sick and tired, dear.