He was going to be obviously
master in his own place to every one; and during the hours
of business he did nothing to distinguish Corey from the
half-dozen other clerks and book-keepers in the outer office,
but he was not silent about the fact that Bromfield
Corey's son had taken a fancy to come to him. "Did you
notice that fellow at the desk facing my type-writer
girl? Well, sir, that's the son of Bromfield Corey--old
Phillips Corey's grandson. And I'll say this for him,
that there isn't a man in the office that looks after his
work better. There isn't anything he's too good for.
He's right here at nine every morning, before the clock
gets in the word. I guess it's his grandfather coming out
in him. He's got charge of the foreign correspondence.
We're pushing the paint everywhere." He flattered himself
that he did not lug the matter in. He had been warned
against that by his wife, but he had the right to do
Corey justice, and his brag took the form of illustration.
"Talk about training for business--I tell you it's all
in the man himself! I used to believe in what old Horace
Greeley said about college graduates being the poorest
kind of horned cattle; but I've changed my mind a little.
You take that fellow Corey. He's been through Harvard,
and he's had about every advantage that a fellow could have.
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