"We have," said Thomson, "but I told you to take it."
"Is it something that requires special attention?" asked John, calmly. He knew that it wasn't.
Thomson glared at him.
"Don' sit arguing with me. Do what I tell you."
"Look here, Thomson," said John, calmly, "there is no reason why the boy should not take it. You are only doing this to annoy me. I'm busy."
"Do you refuse, then?"
"I do. If you're not satisfied go to Mr. Prendergast and explain matters to him. See what he says. Otherwise, either send the boy or go yourself. And, generally speaking, go to the devil."
There was a gasp of astonishment from the other members of the staff. Thomson went back to his desk with a muttered threat.
"All right, my lord," he said. "You'll what's coming to you. You wait!"
"No," said John getting up from his chair. "I won't wait. I'll go and get it now." And he walked towards the door of Mr. Prendergast's private office.
Thomson turned a shade paler. He had good reasons for not wishing to push matters so far that an appeal to his employer was involved.
"What d'you mean? There's no need to make a fuss, is there?" he asked, blusteringly. But John had gone down the passage and knocked at the door of the private office.
"Come in," said Mr. Prendergast. John went in and closed the door behind him.
"May I have a moment, sir?"
Mr. Prendergast looked up at this unusual request. Something just a little different about Brown this morning, he thought "Fire away," he said, genially.
"Thomson and I can't both remain in this office," said John, firmly.
"Is that so?" asked Mr. Prendergast, sarcastically. "In that case, as Thomson is head clerk, precedent suggests that you will be resigning."
"Just as you wish, sir," said John. "In my opinion, Thomson is, apart from being a bully, an ignorant, incompetent fellow, not fit for his job."
"One moment," interrupted his employer. "You have not been taking a correspondence course in How to Get On in Business, have you?"
John laughed. "No, sir," he said. "I know all about this business without that."
"Oh!" said Mr. Prendergast, noting the laugh. "What's the explanation, then?"
John hesitated; then something made him blurt it out.
"You may think me crazy, but the explanation is a stray dog."
"I have lived long enough to be surprised at nothing, Brown. Explain."
"Well, the fact is that I have always been too humble. I've obeyed other people all my life and wondered why I did not get on. I've knuckled under to Thomson and he treats me like dirt. Last Friday a stray bitch came to my house. It tried to lick my hands and I said 'Lie down!' It lay down. That was the first real order I had ever given in my life. And the first time I had ever been obeyed."
"I see," said Mr. Prendergast. "This is really interesting. Go on."
"My wife is a very good woman and I am very fond of her. But she has always managed me—she and her family. I had ideas once of getting out of the rut, but they always prevented me. In fact, they decided and I obeyed—out of slackness, out of habit, for the sake of peace."
"Yes?"
"But when the dog obeyed me, I saw a light. My wife refused to let me keep it. I gave her an order. It was obeyed. She sent for her brother Albert on Sunday. He tried to bully me in the old way. I gave him an order to mind his own business. It was obeyed. That dog, sir, let me into the secret of life."
"And that is?"
"That the people who succeed are those who give orders, and that in nine cases out of ten orders are obeyed for no other reason than that they are given. It's a sort of automatic reaction to an order."
"H'm! So you've found it out, have you, Brown? I congratulate you. There is, of course, a little more to it than that, but, roughly speaking, you're right now, what about Thomson?"
"I gave Thomson an order this morning—and he obeyed it. But I've had enough of him. He's an incompetent person, and tries to hide his incompetence by bullying. That doesn't work with me now."
"He keeps things going," Mr. Prendergast.
"My case against Thomson," said John, "is not only that I dislike him as an inferior. He is slack, he is out and in to the nearest bar all day, he drinks too much beer, his mind is constantly fuddled, he doesn't take any real interest in the business. Who installed the new costing system? Was it your head clerk? No, it was me. Who thought of the card index system we use? Was it Thomson? I did it. Who was responsible for that lot of inferior hides we bought? Thomson, who bought them on the word of a pal of his, without any examination. Who took a secret commission on the deal? Ask
