“You’re goin’ to answer for that job of the other night.”
Paul went to his desk in his corner, and turned over the leaves of the ledger.
“Go and tell Fanny I want order 097, quick!” he said to his boy.
Dawes stood in the doorway, tall and threatening, looking at the top of the young man’s head.
“Six and five’s eleven and seven’s one-and-six,” Paul added aloud.
“An’ you hear, do you!” said Dawes.
“Five and ninepence!” He wrote a figure. “What’s that?” he said.
“I’m going to show you what it is,” said the smith.
The other went on adding the figures aloud.
“Yer crawlin’ little ——, yer daresn’t face me proper!”
Paul quickly snatched the heavy ruler. Dawes started. The young man ruled some lines in his ledger. The elder man was infuriated.
“But wait till I light on you, no matter where it is, I’ll settle your hash for a bit, yer little swine!”
“All right,” said Paul.
At that the smith started heavily from the doorway. Just then a whistle piped shrilly. Paul went to the speaking-tube.
“Yes!” he said, and he listened. “Er—yes!” He listened, then he laughed. “I’ll come down directly. I’ve got a visitor just now.”
Dawes knew from his tone that he had been speaking to Clara. He stepped forward.
“Yer little devil!” he said. “I’ll visitor you, inside of two minutes! Think I’m goin’ ter have you whipperty-snappin’ round?”
The other clerks in the warehouse looked up. Paul’s office-boy appeared, holding some white article.
“Fanny says you could have had it last night if you’d let her know,” he said.
“All right,” answered Paul, looking at the stocking. “Get it off.”
Dawes stood frustrated, helpless with rage. Morel turned round.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said to Dawes, and he would have run downstairs.
“By God, I’ll stop your gallop!” shouted the smith, seizing him by the arm. He turned quickly.
“Hey! hey!” cried the office-boy, alarmed.
