Through a glass partition, which crossed the whole of the room, Mr. Boxall, "the governor," might be seen at a writing-table, with his face toward the exoteric department. All that a spectator from without could see, as he went on writing, was a high forehead, occupying more than its due share of a countenance which, foreshortened, of course, from his position at the table, appeared otherwise commonplace and rather insignificant, and a head which had been as finely _tonsured_ by the scythe of Time as if the highest ecclesiastical dignity had depended upon the breadth and perfection of the vacancy. The corona which resulted was iron-gray. When Thomas was quite ready he walked into the inner room. "Tom, my boy, you are late," said Mr. Boxall, lifting a face whose full view considerably modified the impression I have just given. There was great brilliance in the deep-set eyes, and a certain something, almost merriment, about the mouth, hovering lightly over a strong upper lip, which overhung and almost hid a disproportionately small under one. His chin was large, and between it and the forehead there was little space left for any farther development of countenance. "Not very late, I believe, sir," answered Thomas. "My watch must have misled me." "Pull out your watch, my boy, and let us see." Thomas obeyed. "By your own watch, it is a quarter past," said Mr. Boxall. "I have been here five minutes." "I will not do you the discredit of granting you have spent that time in taking off your hat and gloves. Your watch is five minutes slower than mine," continued Mr. Boxall, pulling out a saucepan of silver, "and mine is five minutes slower than the Exchange. You are nearly half an hour late. You will never get on if you are not punctual. It's an old-fashioned virtue, I know. But first at the office is first at the winning-post, I can tell you. You'll never make money if you're late." "I have no particular wish--I don't want to make money," said Thomas. "But I do," rejoined Mr. Boxall, good-naturedly; "and you are my servant, and must do your part." Thereat Thomas bridled visibly. "Ah! I see," resumed the merchant; "you don't like the word. I will change it. There's no masters or servants nowadays; they are all governors and _employees_. What they gain by the alteration, I am sure I don't know." I spell the italicized word thus, because Mr. Boxall pronounced _employés_ exactly as if it were an English word ending in _ees_. Mr. Worboise's lip curled. He could afford to be contemptuous. He had been to Boulogne, and believed he could make a Frenchman understand him. He certainly did know two of the conjugations out of--I really don't know how many. His master did not see what the curl indicated, but possibly his look made Thomas feel that he had been rude. He sought to cover it by saying-- "Mr. Wither was as late as I was, sir. I think it's very hard I should be always pulled up, and nobody else."