Part 26 (1/2)

replied Mr. Bates kindly.

Cameron's flush grew deeper, while Jimmy and his friend resigned themselves to an ecstasy of delight.

”I was going to say,” said Cameron in a tone loud and deliberate, ”that I had been employed with the general copying work in a writer's office.”

”Writing? Fancy! Writing, eh? No use here!” said Mr. Bates shortly, for time was pa.s.sing.

”A writer with us means a lawyer!” replied Cameron.

”Why the deuce don't they say so?” answered Mr. Bates impatiently.

”Well! Well!” getting hold of himself again. ”Here we allow our solicitors to look after our legal work. Typewrite?” he inquired suddenly.

”I beg your pardon!” replied Cameron. ”Typewrite? Do you mean, can I use a typewriting machine?”

”Yes! Yes! For heaven's sake, yes!”

”No, I cannot!”

”Bookkeep?”

”No.”

”Good Lord! What have I got?” inquired Mr. Bates of himself, in a tone, however, perfectly audible to those in the immediate neighbourhood.

”Try him licking stamps!” suggested the lanky youth in a voice that, while it reached the ears of Jimmy and others near by, including Cameron, was inaudible to the manager. Mr. Bates caught the sound, however, and glared about him through his spectacles. Time was being wasted--the supreme offense in that office--and Mr. Bates was fast losing his self-command.

”Here!” he cried suddenly, seizing a sheaf of letters. ”File these letters. You will be able to do that, I guess! File's in the vault over there!”

Cameron took the letters and stood looking helplessly from them to Mr.

Bates' bald head, that gentleman's face being already in close proximity to the papers on his desk.

”Just how do I go about this?--I mean, what system do you--”

”Jim!” roared Mr. Bates, throwing down his pen, ”show this con--show Mr. Cameron how to file these letters! Just like these blank old-country chumps!” added Mr. Bates, in a lower voice, but loud enough to be distinctly heard.

Jim came up with a smile of patronising pity on his face. It was the smile that touched to life the ma.s.s of combustible material that had been acc.u.mulating for the last hour in Cameron's soul. Instead of following the boy, he turned with a swift movement back to the manager's desk, laid his sheaf of letters down on Mr. Bates' papers, and, leaning over the desk, towards that gentleman, said:

”Did you mean that remark to apply to me?” His voice was very quiet.

But Mr. Bates started back with a quick movement from the white face and burning eyes.

”Here, you get out of this!” he cried.

”Because,” continued Cameron, ”if you did, I must ask you to apologise at once.”

All smiles vanished from the office staff, even Jimmy's face a.s.sumed a serious aspect. Mr. Bates pushed back his chair.

”A-po-pologise!” he sputtered. ”Get out of this office, d'ye hear?”

”Be quick!” said Cameron, his hands gripping Mr. Bates' desk till it shook.