“Well, what are you doing?”
“Nothing yet, sir. I just got here and Mister—he was showing me around.”
“Better get to work then. Can’t afford to pay wages to idlers.”
“Yes, sir. What shall I do?”
“Do? Do?” Mr. Wright got quite peevish at the question. “Do anything! Find something to do! That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Seems to me there’s plenty to do here. You don’t see me standing around looking for work, do you?”
Tom looked doubtfully at Joe. Joe gravely winked across a counter. Mr. Wright, fuming to himself, hurried back to the office.
“What shall I do?” asked Tom.
“Oh, just get behind a counter and make believe you’re busy. He never knows the difference. Tell you what, though, Tom. You might take the stuff out of the tool case down there and clean it out. You’ll find dust-brush and cloths downstairs behind the packing-room door. Be careful not to get things mixed up. Better lay everything on top of the case. I’ll show you when you come up.”
Mr. Cummings entered while Tom was emptying the showcase and stopped to shake hands with him. “Got you at work, have they?” he asked. “That’s right. Those cases need cleaning.” Presently, having conversed for a few moments with his partner, he was back again. “Did you speak to your uncle, son?” he inquired.