"Mr. Titmouse," said he, with a very polite air, "let me introduce you to Mr. Quirk"--(This was the senior partner, a short, stout elderly gentleman, dressed in black, with a shining bald crown fringed with white hair, and sharp black eyes, and who looked very earnestly, nay, with even a kind of dismay, at him)--"and Mr. Snap"--(This was the junior partner, having recently been promoted to be such after ten years' service in the office, as managing clerk: he was about thirty, particularly well dressed, slight, active, and with a face like a terrier--_so_ hard, sharp, and wiry!) Of Mr. Gammon himself, I have already given the reader a slight notion. He appeared altogether a different style of person from both his partners. He was of most gentlemanly person and bearing--and at once acute, cautious, and insinuating--with a certain something about the eye, which had from the first made Titmouse feel uneasy on looking at him. "A seat, sir," said Mr. Quirk, rising, and placing a chair for him, on which he sat down, they resuming theirs. "You are punctual, Mr. Titmouse!" exclaimed Mr. Gammon, kindly; "more so than, I fear, you were yesterday, after our long interview, eh? Pray what did that worthy person, Mr. Rag-bag--or whatever his name is--say on your return?" "Say, gents?"--(he tried to clear his throat, for he spoke somewhat more thickly, and his heart beat more perceptibly than usual)--"Meaning no offence--I'm ruined by it, and no mistake." "Ruined! I'm sorry to hear it," interposed Mr. Gammon, with a concerned air. "I am, indeed, sir. Such a towering rage as he has been in ever since; and he's given me warning to go on the 10th of next month." He thought he observed a faint smile flit over the faces of all three. "He has, indeed!" "Dear me, Mr. Titmouse!--Did he allege any reason for dismissing you?" keenly inquired Mr. Quirk. "Yes, sir"---- "What might it have been?" "Stopping out longer than I was allowed, and refusing to tell him what this gentleman and I had been talking about." "Don't think that'll do; sure it won't!" briskly exclaimed Mr. Snap; "no just cause of dismissal that," and he jumped up, whisked down a book from the shelves behind him, and eagerly turned over the leaves. "Never mind that now, Mr. Snap," said Mr. Quirk, rather petulantly; "surely we have other matters to talk about to-night!" "Asking pardon, sir, but I think it _does_ matter to me, sir," interposed Titmouse; "for on the 10th of next month I'm a beggar--being next door to it _now_." "Not quite, we trust," said Mr. Gammon, with a benignant smile. "But Mr. Tag-rag said he'd make me as good as one." "That's evidence to show malice," again eagerly interjected Mr. Snap, who was a second time tartly rebuffed by Mr. Quirk; even Mr. Gammon turning towards him with a surprised--"Really, Mr. Snap!" "So Mr. Tag-rag said he'd make you a beggar?" inquired Mr. Quirk. "He vowed he would, sir!--He did, as true as the gospel, sir!"