I followed Mr. Blades and walked down the great room. There were two desks apart in one corner at which old, bald, spectacled men sat, and at the other desks, already mentioned, the full strength of the Department was already busily occupied. I found an empty desk waiting for me beside Mr. Blades, and I could see by his manner, which was kindly but penetrating, that he was considering what sort of clerk I should make. Others also looked at me. One man said “Legs!” referring to mine, which were very long. There was a strange and helpless feeling about it all. I dimly remembered feeling just the same when I first went to Merivale. Mr. Blades called a messenger and bade him bring pens, fill the ink-bottles and fetch blotting-paper and paper-cutter, a ruler, an ink eraser, and other clerkly instruments. “Your first duty,” he said, “is to copy policies into the books. Here is a pile of policies and they are numbered in order. There are no abbreviations on the actual policy; but abbreviations are allowed in copying them into the books. This saves many hours of time. For instance, the word ‘communicating’ occurs over and over again. So, in copying it, we reduce it to three letters, namely ‘com.’ I will now copy a policy and you can see how I do it.” Mr. Blades was kindness itself and, indeed, from that day forward I blessed his name. He was a brick. He was fierce certainly, and if angered, as sometimes happened, would utter dreadful imprecations, such as I thought were only to be heard among pirates and other story-book people; but he had a big heart and a very heroic mind. He feared nothing and, though a small man, exhibited great courage on many occasions in his private life, of which he told me when I knew him better. He was married and lived at Bickleigh and had offspring.