“I don’t mean you to be a clerk; all that I want you to do is to learn the business. I have plans for you, which both you and your father will like, I believe. But you _must_ learn the business. I don’t mean you to do any dry or mean work, such as collecting bills. Look over young Spratling’s shoulder now and then, and observe what he is about. Pump Mr. Curling--he is good-natured and a smart hand--and get all the information you can out of him.” “Oh, I will, with pleasure.” “You needn’t fear any ill-feeling. They know you are my nephew, and I have told them that your father has sent you to me to learn business habits, and to qualify you for becoming--well, I shall have more to say to you about the future before long. I have a good scheme in my head.” “You are all kindness,” I answered. “Every moment I am with you makes me think of Longueville with less regret.” “All right,” he exclaimed, looking immensely gratified and amiable. “And now, as I told you last night, I don’t want you to formally join us until Monday. You are under an engagement to my wife--who, I can assure you, has fallen in love with you!--to dine with us every day--that is, if you like; and she takes you under her protection until Monday morning, when she will consign you to me. She has ordered the carriage at eleven, and means, I believe, to take you a drive round the town, and show you what there is to be seen. The phaeton will convey you to Grove End.” Here Mr. Spratling came in, and said Mr. Clover wanted an audience. I took my hat, but before I went out, my uncle called me back to whisper, “You’ll find a box of cigars in the library,” and dismissed me with a cheerful push. Mr. Curling bowed as I passed out, and I returned his salute politely. I felt more at my ease now that my uncle had told me that these young men were to regard me as a gentleman who had condescended to join the bank merely for the purpose of acquiring business habits. I cannot say that I thought Mr. Curling good-looking. His eyes indeed were not bad; but he didn’t look a manly sort of fellow. He was narrow and thin-breasted, and had curly black hair, which I detest. His teeth were good, and his smile so-so, but his dress was _outré_, ill-fitting, and he wore a ring on the first finger of his right hand--the hand he wrote with, the finger he pointed with--which affected me more disagreeably than had he said “You was,” and dropped his h’s and g’s. It was ridiculous to suppose that golden-haired Conny could see anything in such a man as that. As to Spratling, he looked a harmless little fellow; his head and hands were immense, and his shoulders broad enough for a man of my father’s height; yet he might have walked under my arm. I cocked my hat as I strolled past the counter with a slow and indolent step; and stopped, when on the pavement, full in the sight of Mr. Curling, to light a cigar, though I should have preferred a pipe. I then got into the phaeton, and was driven to Grove End.