“I shall be forced to terminate our arrangement unless I hear better reports of you from my associates,” said the elder Cutting, in conclusion. He believed it his duty to say this; he was also honestly irritated.
The junior partners were gratified; they considered that they had settled the younger Cutting.
It was a muggy September morning, and the office force was hot and irritable. Something unusual and disturbing was in the air. The junior partners were consulting anxiously in the big general room where most of the clerks worked, and where the younger Cutting had his desk. The younger Cutting had not yet appeared. He came in as the clock was pointing to twelve minutes past ten. The junior partners glanced up at the clock, and went on again in animated undertones.
Cutting opened his desk, sat down, and unfolded his newspaper. He was a beautiful, clean-looking youth with an air of calm and deliberation. He regarded the junior partners with composure, and began to read.
“No,” Mr. Bruce was saying; “it is too late to do anything about it now. The case is on to-day’s calendar, and will be called the first thing after lunch. Our witnesses haven’t been notified or subpœnaed, and the law hasn’t been looked up.”
Smith shook his head sourly. “The old man is getting more absent-minded every year,” he said. “We can’t trust him to look after his business any longer. The managing clerk gave him a week’s notice, and told him about it again yesterday. You think there is no chance of getting more time?”
Bruce looked at his colleague with contempt. “You might,” he said sarcastically; “I can’t.”
“Oh, I’ll take your word for it,” said Smith. “I don’t want to tackle Heminway.”
Bruce laughed dryly. “The case has been put over for us I don’t know how many times already,” he said. “I don’t blame Heminway. He gave us ample notice that he couldn’t do it again.”