My Friend Smith Part 25

"Only," said I, by way of explanation, "I saw you there just now, and Mrs Nash said I'd better follow you."

"Mrs Nash is a jolly sight too familiar. So are you."

With which the stately youth marched on, his nose higher in the air than ever.

I was not greatly rea.s.sured by this first introduction, but for the time being I was too intent on reaching Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's in good time to think of much beside. Fortunately my fellow-lodger's direction was correct, and in a few minutes I found myself standing on familiar ground in Hawk Street.

When I entered the office the youth who rejoiced in the name of Crow was the only representative of the firm present. He was engaged in the intellectual task of filling up the ink-pots out of a big stone jar, and doing it very badly too, as the small puddles of ink on nearly every desk testified. He knew me at once, and greeted me with great alacrity.

"Hullo! young 'un, here you are. Look sharp and fill up the rest of these, do you hear? and mind you don't make any spills!"

I proceeded to obey, while Mr Crow, quite a grandee now that there was some one in the office junior to himself, stood, with his legs apart, before the fireplace and read the _Times_, giving an occasional glance at my proceedings.

"Hold hard!" he cried, presently, in an excited manner, when, having filled all the ink-pots along one of the desks, I was proceeding to attack on the other side of the screen; "hold hard! you don't want to fill up for the Imports, I say. They can do that themselves!"

Of course I agreed with him in this, and was just about restoring the jar to Mr Crow's custody, when Jack Smith entered the office.

"Hullo! Jack," I cried, feeling quite an old hand; "here you are.

Isn't it fine?"

"Rather," said Jack, solemnly, returning my grasp. "I _am_ glad."

"So am I. I was in such a fright when--"

"Now then, you young 'un there," said Crow, looking up from his paper, "don't go dawdling, I say. Just stick fresh nibs in all the Export pens, and look sharp about it, too."

"I'll help you, Fred," said Jack Smith, as I proceeded to obey.

"No, you won't!" said Crow; "we don't want you messing about in our department. You stick to your Imports."

It was evident Exports and Imports at Messrs. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's were not on absolutely brotherly terms. Anyhow I had to stick in the nibs una.s.sisted.

Presently the other clerks began to drop in, among them Mr Doubleday, who was very witty on the subject of my appointment, and told Wallop he understood I was to be admitted into partners.h.i.+p next week, and would then sign all the cheques.

"All right!" said Wallop; "I'll put off asking for a rise till next week."

I was presumptuous enough to laugh at this, which greatly offended both the magnates. Doubleday ordered me to my desk instantly.

"Get on with your work, do you hear? and don't stand grinning there!"

"What had I better do?" I inquired, mildly.

"Do?" said Mr Doubleday, proceeding to take up his pen and settle himself to work; "I'll let you know what to-- Look here. Crow," he broke off, in a rage, pointing to one of the ink puddles which that hero had made, "here's the same beastly mess again! Every Monday it's the same--ink all over the place! Why on earth don't you keep your messes to yourself?"

"That young 'un filled up to-day," said Crow, coolly pointing to me.

I was so astounded by this false charge that I could hardly speak. At last I retorted, "I didn't; you know I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!" said Crow.

"I didn't fill up that pot; it was done before I got here."

"Don't tell lies!" said Crow.

"I'm not telling lies!" cried I.

"Yes, you are!" said Crow. "I'm ashamed of you!"

"Oh, it was you, was it?" demanded Mr Doubleday, turning to me; "then just come and wipe it up. Look sharp!"

I was disposed to resist this piece of injustice to the utmost, but somehow the morning of my arrival it would hardly look well to figure in a row.

"I didn't do it," said I, in an agitated voice, "but I'll wipe it up."

"Look sharp about it, then!" said Doubleday, grinning at Wallop.

It is one thing to offer to wipe up an ink puddle, and quite another to do it.

"Now then!" said Doubleday, as I stood doubtfully in front of the scene of operation.

"I don't know," I faltered,--"I, that is--I haven't got anything I can do it with."

"What! not got a handkerchief!" exclaimed the head clerk, in apparent consternation.

"Yes; but I can't do it with that. Wouldn't some blotting--"

"Blotting-paper!--the firm's blotting-paper to wipe up his messes! What do you think of that, all of you? Come, out with your handkerchief!"

Things looked threatening. I saw it was no use resisting. Even the Imports were standing on their stools and looking over the screen. So I took out my handkerchief and, with a groan, plunged it into the spilt ink.

Doubleday and the clerks evidently appreciated this act of devotion, and encouraged me with considerable laughter. My handkerchief and my hand were soon both the colour of the fluid they were wiping up, and my frame of mind was nearly as black.

"Now then," said Doubleday, "aren't you nearly done? See if there's any gone down the crack there. Is there?"

I stooped down to inspect the crack in question, and as I did so Mr Doubleday adroitly slipped his pen under my soaking handkerchief, and, by a sudden jerk, lifted it right into my face.

At the same moment the door opened and Mr Barnacle entered! He looked round for a moment sharply, and then, pa.s.sing on to the inner-room, said, "Doubleday, bring the two new office-boys into my room."

If I had heard just the sentence of death p.r.o.nounced on me I could hardly have been more horrified. My face and hand were like the face and hand of a negro, my collar and s.h.i.+rt were spotted and smeared all over with ink, and even my light hair was decorated with black patches.

And in this guise I was to make my first appearance before my masters!

Jack Smith's expression of amazement and horror as he caught sight of me only intensified my own distress, and Doubleday's stern "Now you're in for it!" sounded hopelessly prophetic.

I could do nothing. To wipe my face with my clean hand, with the tail of my jacket, with my s.h.i.+rt-sleeve, could do no good. No; I was in for it and must meet my doom!

But I determined to make one expiring effort to escape it.

"Please, sir," I cried, as we came to the door and before we entered, "I'm very sorry, but my face is all over ink. May I wash it before I come in?"