"Yes, sir, but if they are then worth their salt they see where they have made a mistake, and try and correct it. We did not want him." "As far as actual work to be done, no; but I will tell you plainly why I took on the young man. I wish to help my old friend in a peculiarly troubled period of his life." "That's you all over, Mr Van Heldre," said the old clerk, pinching his very red nose, and then arranging his thin hair with a pen-holder, "but I can't feel that it's right. You see, the young man don't take to his work. He comes and goes in a supercilious manner, and treats me as if I were his servant." "Oh, that will soon pass off, Crampton." "I hope so, Mr Van Heldre, sir, but his writing's as bad as a schoolboy's." "That will improve." "He's always late of a morning." "I'll ask him to correct that." "And he's always doing what I hate in a young man, seeing how short is life, sir, and how soon we're gone--he's always looking at the clock and yawning." "Never mind, Crampton, he'll soon give up all that sort of thing. The young man is like an ill-trained tree. He has grown rather wild, but now he has been transplanted to an orderly office, to be under your constant supervision, he will gradually imbibe your habits and precision. It will be his making." "Now, now, now," said the old clerk, shaking his head, "that's flattering, sir. My habits and precision. No, no, sir; I'm a very bad clerk, and I'm growing old as fast as I can." "You are the best clerk in the west of England, Crampton, and you are only growing old at the customary rate. And now to oblige me look over these little blemishes in the young man's character. There is a good deal of the spoiled boy in him, but I believe his heart's right; and for more reasons than one I want him to develop into a good man of business--such a one as we can make of him if we try." "Don't say another word, Mr Van Heldre. You know me, and if I say as long as the young man is honest and straightforward I'll do my best for him, I suppose that's sufficient." "More than sufficient, Crampton." "But you know, sir, he ought to have made some little advance in a month." "No, no, Crampton," said Van Heldre, smiling, "he has not grown used to the new suit yet; have patience, and he'll come right." "That's enough, sir," said Crampton, climbing on to a high stool in front of a well-polished desk; "now for business. The _St. Aubyn_ has taken in all her cargo, and will sail to-morrow. We ought soon to have news of the _Madelaine_. By the way, I hope Miss Madelaine's quite well, sir. Haven't seen her for a day and a half." "Quite well, Crampton." "That's right, sir," said the old man, smiling, and rubbing his hands. "Bless her! I've only one thing against her. Why wasn't she a boy?" Van Heldre smiled at his old confidential man, who still rubbed his hands softly, and gazed over his silver-rimmed spectacles at a file of bills of lading hanging from the wall.