My Friend Smith Part 26

I was vaguely conscious of the t.i.tters of the clerks behind me, of the angry grip of Doubleday on one side of me, and of Smith's solemn and horrified face on the other, and the next moment I was standing with my friend in front of Mr Barnacle's awful desk.

He regarded me sternly for a moment or two, during which I suffered indescribable anguish of mind.

"What is the meaning of this?" said he. "I don't understand it."

"Oh, please, sir," cried I, almost beseechingly, "I'm so sorry. I was wiping up some ink, and got some on my face. I couldn't help."

Mr Barnacle looked angry and impatient.

"This is no place for nonsense," said he.

"Really I couldn't help," I pleaded.

There must have been some traces of earnestness visible, I fancy, on my inky face, for I saw Mr Barnacle look at me curiously as I spoke, while there was the faintest perceptible twitch at the corners of his lips.

"Go and wash at once," he said, sternly.

I fled from his presence as if I had been a leper, and amid the merriment of my fellow-clerks sought the sink at the other end of the office and washed there as I had never washed before.

After much exertion, my countenance resumed something like its natural complexion, and the white skin faintly dawned once more on my fingers.

My collar and s.h.i.+rt-front were beyond cleaning, but at the end of my ablutions I was, at any rate, rather more presentable than I had been.

Then I returned refreshed in body and mind to Mr Barnacle, whom I found explaining to Smith his duties in the Import Department. He briefly recapitulated the lecture for my benefit, and then dismissed us both under the charge of Mr Doubleday to our duties, and by the time one o'clock was reached that day, and I was informed I might go out for twenty minutes for my dinner, I was quite settled down as junior clerk in the Export Department of Merrett, Barnacle, and Company.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

HOW MY FRIEND SMITH AND I KNOCKED ABOUT A BIT IN OUR NEW QUARTERS.

Smith and I had a good deal more than dinner to discuss that morning as we rested for twenty minutes from our office labours.

He was very much in earnest about his new work, I could see; and I felt, as I listened to him, that my own aspirations for success were not nearly as deep-seated as his. He didn't brag, or build absurd castles in the air; but he made no secret of the fact that now he was once in the business he meant to get on, and expected pretty confidently that he would do so.

I wished I could feel half as sure of myself. At any rate, I was encouraged by Jack Smith's enthusiasm, and returned at the end of my twenty minutes to my desk with every intention of distinguis.h.i.+ng myself at my work.

But somehow everything was so novel, and I was so curiously disposed, that I could not prevent my thoughts wandering a good deal, or listening to the constant running fire of small talk that was going on among my fellow-clerks. And this was all the less to be wondered at, since I myself was a prominent topic of conversation.

Mr Doubleday was a most curious mixture of humour, pomposity, and business, which made it very hard to know how exactly to take him. If I dared to laugh at a joke, he fired up, and ordered me angrily to get on with my work. And if I did become engrossed in the figures and entries before me, he was sure to trip me up with some act or speech of pleasantry.

"Why don't you stick a nib on the end of your nose and write with it?"

he inquired, as I was poring over an account-book in front of me, trying to make out the rather minute hieroglyphics contained therein.

I withdrew my nose, blus.h.i.+ngly, to a more moderate distance, a motion which appeared greatly to entertain my fellow-clerks, whose amus.e.m.e.nt only added to my confusion.

"Hullo! I say," said Doubleday, "no blus.h.i.+ng allowed here, is there, Wallop?"

"Rather not. No one ever saw _you_ blush," replied Mr Wallop.

This turned the laugh against Doubleday, and I, despite my bashfulness, was indiscreet enough to join in it.

Mr Doubleday was greatly incensed.

"Get on with your work, do you hear? you young cad!" he cried. "Do you suppose we pay you eight bob a week to sit there and grin? How many accounts have you checked, I'd like to know?"

"Six," I said, nervously, quite uneasy at Mr Doubleday's sudden seriousness.

"Six in two hours--that's three an hour."

"Quite right; not bad for Dubbs, that, is it, Crow?" put in Wallop.

"No. He's reckoned it up right this time."

"I wish _you'd_ reckon it up right now and then," retorted Doubleday.

"How about the change out of those two handkerchiefs?"

"There is no change," said Crow, sulkily; "they were sixpence each."

"What's the use of saying that, when they are stuck up fourpence- halfpenny each in the window, you young thief?"

"You can get them yourself, then," replied the injured Crow. "I'll go no more jobs for you--there! I'm not the junior now, and I'm hanged if I'll put up with it."

"You'll probably be hanged, whether you put up with it or not," was Mr Doubleday's retort, who, apparently desirous to change the conversation, suddenly rounded on me, as I was looking up and listening to the edifying dialogue.

"Now then, young Batchelor, dawdling again. Upon my word I'll speak to Mr Barnacle about you. Mind, I mean what I say."

"You'd better look-out, young turnip-top, I can tell you," growled Crow; "when Dubbs means what he says, it's no joke, I can tell you."

On the whole my first afternoon's work at Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's was somewhat distracting, and by the time half-past six arrived I felt I had not accomplished quite as much as I had intended.

My first care on rejoining Jack was to sound him as to the possibility of his coming to lodge at Mrs Nash's. To my delight he antic.i.p.ated me by inquiring, "Have you got any place to lodge, Fred?"

"Yes," said I, "and I only wish you'd come there too, Jack."

"Whereabouts is it?" he asked.

"Mrs Nash's, at Beadle Square. But you will come, won't you?"

"Perhaps there's not room."

"Oh yes," said I, taking upon myself to a.s.sert what I did not know, "there is. Come along, old man, it'll make all the difference if we get together."

"How much is it?" asked Jack, doubtfully.

"Come along, and we'll ask," said I, dragging him along.

He came, and together we bearded Mrs Nash in her den.

"I say, Mrs Nash," said I, "my friend's coming to lodge here, please."