fussed over various jobs. Suddenly the boy started as a shrill whistle sounded near his ear. Mr. Pappleworth came, took a plug out of a pipe, and said, in an amazingly cross and bossy voice:
“Yes?”
Paul heard a faint voice, like a woman’s, out of the mouth of the tube. He gazed in wonder, never having seen a speaking-tube before.
“Well,” said Mr. Pappleworth disagreeably into the tube, “you’d better get some of your back work done, then.”
Again the woman’s tiny voice was heard, sounding pretty and cross.
“I’ve not time to stand here while you talk,” said Mr. Pappleworth, and he pushed the plug into the tube.
“Come, my lad,” he said imploringly to Paul, “there’s Polly crying out for them orders. Can’t you buck up a bit? Here, come out!”
He took the book, to Paul’s immense chagrin, and began the copying himself. He worked quickly and well. This done, he seized some strips of long yellow paper, about three inches wide, and made out the day’s orders for the work-girls.
“You’d better watch me,” he said to Paul, working all the while rapidly. Paul watched the weird little drawings of legs, and thighs, and ankles, with the strokes across and the numbers, and the few brief directions which his chief made upon the yellow paper. Then Mr. Pappleworth finished and jumped up.
“Come on with me,” he said, and the yellow papers flying in his hands, he dashed through a door and down some stairs, into the basement where the gas was burning. They crossed the cold, damp storeroom, then a long, dreary room with a long table on trestles, into a smaller, cosy apartment, not very high, which had been built on to the main building. In this room a small woman with a red serge blouse, and her black hair done on top of her head, was waiting like a proud little bantam.
“Here y’are!” said Pappleworth.
“I think it is ‘here you are!’ ” exclaimed Polly. “The girls have been here nearly half an hour waiting. Just think of the time wasted!”
“You think of getting your work done and not talking so much,” said Mr. Pappleworth. “You could ha’ been finishing off”
