THE FIRST BATTLE
If you get me anything there's the commission—if you don't———"
"We lose," supplied the assistant.
"And you ought to," said Lewisham. "It's a fair game."
"Living in London?" asked Blendershin.
"Yes," said the clerk.
"That's all right," said Mr. Blendershin. "We won't say anything about the postage in that case. Of course it's the off season, and you mustn't expect anything at present very much. Sometimes there's a shift or so at Easter. . . . There's nothing more. . . . Afternoon. Any one else, Binks?"
Messrs. Maskelyne, Smith and Thrums did a higher class of work than Blendershin, whose specialties were lower-class private establishments and the cheaper sort of endowed schools. Indeed, so superior were Maskelyne, Smith and Thrums that they enraged Lewisham by refusing at first to put him on their books. He was interviewed briefly by a young man dressed and speaking with offensive precision, whose eye adhered rigidly to the waterproof collar throughout the interview.
"Hardly our line," he said, and pushed Lewisham a form to fill up. "Mostly upper class and good preparatory schools here, you know."
As Lewisham filled up the form with his multitudinous "'ologies" and "'ographies," a youth of ducal appearance entered and greeted the precise young man in a friendly way. Lewisham, bending down to write, perceived that this professional rival wore a very long frock coat, patent leather boots,
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