Your desk is the one next Mr. Jacobs, yonder. Your work is waiting
you there. It is quite simple, the entry of freight receipts upon
the ledger. If you wish further instructions, apply to me here--you
understand?"
"I think so!" replied Cameron. "I shall do my best to--"
"Very well! That is all!" replied Mr. Bates, plunging his head again
into his papers.
The office staff sank back to work with every expression of
disappointment. A moment later, however, their hopes revived.
"Oh! Mr. Cameron!" called out Mr. Bates. Mr. Cameron returned to his
desk. "If you should chance to be late again, never mind going to your
desk; just come here for your cheque."
Mr. Bates' tone was kindly, even considerate, as if he were anxious to
save his clerk unnecessary inconvenience.
"I beg your pardon!" stammered Cameron, astonished.
"That is all!" replied Mr. Bates, his nose once more in his papers.
Cameron stood hesitating. His eye fell upon the boy, Jimmy, whose face
expressed keenest joy.
"Do you mean, Sir, that if I am late you dismiss me forthwith?"
"What?" Mr. Bates' tone was so fiercely explosive that it appeared to
throw up his head with a violent motion.
Cameron repeated his question.
"Mr. Cameron, my time is valuable; so is yours. I thought that I spoke
quite distinctly.
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