She and I, Volume 2: A Love Story. A Life History. — John Shaqi
She and I, Volume 2: A Love Story. A Life History.Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
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She and I, Volume 2: A Love Story. A Life History.
Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
Love stories
One of the fellows reported, indeed, that once having to return to the
office at midnight, in search of his latch-key which he had forgotten in
his office-coat, and without which he was unable to obtain admittance to
his lodgings, he found old "Smudge,"--as we somewhat irreverently termed
the chief,--who was particularly neat and nice in his handwriting--
working away; minuting and docketing papers, just as if it had been
early in the afternoon. It was his firm persuasion, _he_ said, that
Smudge never went away at all, but remained in the office altogether,
sleeping in a waste basket, his head pillowed on the debris of destroyed
correspondence!
Of course we did not really believe in the latter part of this
statement; still, it was quite feasible, I'm sure, now that I think it
over.
His habit every morning was to draw a great black line, punctually as
the clock chimed half-past ten, across the middle of the attendance--
book, which stood on a bracket near the door, handy for everybody coming
in; the clerks having to sign it on entering, inserting the exact time
at which they put in an appearance. Our normal hour was supposed to be
ten, the half-hour being only so much grace allowed for dilatory persons
delayed by matters "over which they had no control"--although few they
were who did not take advantage of it.
Why the old gentleman drew this line, none could tell; for, no bad
results ensued to sinners who signed after its limitation--many of those
who were invariably late, being subsequently duly promoted in their
turn, as vacancies occurred.
But, the practice appeared to give Smudge great satisfaction. He,
probably, took some malicious pleasure in scoring up the delinquencies
of his staff, mentally consigning the underliners, most likely, to
irretrievable ruin, both in this world and the next!
I, as I've already said, was an exception to this rule.
I must explain, however, that my good hours did not proceed from any
intense wish on my part to ingratiate myself with the chief. They were
rather owing to the fact, that the omnibus I specially patronised,
generally arrived in town from the remote shades of Saint Canon's by ten
o'clock sharp--a result usually obtained through hard driving, and on
account of an "opposition" conveyance being on the road.
Smudge, nevertheless, took the deed for the will; and he complimented me
accordingly, much to my surprise.
"Ha! Mr Lorton," he growled to me one morning, on my coming in just as
the hour was striking. "You'll be picking up the worm soon, you come so
uncommonly early! Never once down below the line--good sign! good sign!
But, it won't last, it won't last,"--he added thinking he had spoken
too graciously.--"All of you begin well and end badly; and _you_ won't
be any better than the rest!"
He then hid himself behind a foolscap folio, to signify that the
audience was ended.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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