"No one here smokes." "I've got to have a cigar," the president of the company insisted.
"Then, sir, if you'll give Nicolas your orders, he'll run over to Blixton and get you what you want." The Mexican departed in haste on the errand.
"Now, first of all, Reade," began the president, "I am disgusted at learning of one fool mistake that you've made." "What is that, sir ?" Tom asked, coloring.
"I've just learned that you discharged Evarts---one of our best and most useful men." "I did discharge him, sir," Reade admitted.
"Take him back, at once." "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do it.

He---" "I don't think you quite understand," broke in Mr.Bascomb coldly.

"I directed you to take Mr.Evarts back on this work." "I was about to tell you, sir, why I can't do anything of the sort.
I---" "Stop right there, Reade," ordered President Bascomb, in his most aggressive, bullying manner.

"The first point that we have to settle is that Evarts must come back on the pay-roll and have his old position.

Be good enough to let that proposition sink in before we take up the second." "I am very sorry, sir," Tom murmured respectfully, "but I can't and won't have Evarts back here.