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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Half a Rogue"

"
He lighted a cigar, shoved his hands into his trousers pockets and
walked insolently toward the exit. The majority of the men were
grinning. Tear down this place? Kill the goose that laid the golden
egg? It was preposterous. Why, no man had ever done a thing like that.
It was to cut off one's nose to spite one's face. It was a case of
bluff, pure and simple. Winter was nearly three months off. By that
time this smart young man would be brought to his senses. So they
began filing out in twos and threes, their blouses and dinner-pails
tucked under their arms. Many were whistling lightly, many were
smoking their pipes, but there were some who passed forth silent and
grave. If this young man was a chip of the old block, they had best
start out at once in search of a new job.
Bennington jumped down from his impromptu platform and closed the
ponderous doors. Then he hurried to the main office, where he notified
the clerks what had happened. He returned to his private office. He
arranged his papers methodically, closed the desk, and sat down. His
gaze wandered to the blue hills and rolling pastures, and his eyes
sparkled; but he forced back what had caused it, and presently his
eyes became dry and hard.


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