"Do you know—" said Butterwell, beginning.
"Sit down, won't you?" said Crosbie, seating himself as he spoke. If there was to be a contest, he would make the best fight he could. He would show a better spirit here than he had done on the railway platform. Butterwell did sit down, and felt as he did so, that the very motion of sitting took away some of his power. He ought to have sent for Crosbie into his own room. A man, when he wishes to reprimand another, should always have the benefit of his own atmosphere.
"I don't want to find any fault," Butterwell began.
"I hope you have not any cause," said Crosbie.
"No, no; I don't say that I have. But we think at the Board—"
"Stop, stop, Butterwell. If anything unpleasant is coming, it had better come from the Board. I should take it in better spirit; I should, indeed."
"What takes place at the Board must be official."
"I shall not mind that in the least. I should rather like it than otherwise."
"It simply amounts to this,—that we think you are taking a little too much on yourself. No doubt, it's a fault on the right side, and arises from your wishing to have the work well done."
"And if I don't do it, who will?" asked Crosbie.