Burton smiled quite pleasantly.
"It does seem queer, sir," he admitted. "I said that I was getting on all right because I am contented and happy. That is the chief thing after all, isn't it?"
Mr. Waddington opened his mouth and closed it again.
"I wish I could make out what the devil it was that happened to you," he said. "Why, you used to be as smart as they make 'em, a regular nipper after business. I expected you'd be after me for a partnership before long, and I expect I'd have had to give it you. And then you went clean dotty. I shall never forget that day at the sale, when you began telling people everything it wasn't good for them to know."
"You mean that it wasn't good for us for them to know," Burton corrected gently.
Mr. Waddington laughed. He had a large amount of easy good-humor and he was always ready to laugh.
"You haven't lost your wits, I see," he declared. "What was it? Did you by any chance get religion, Burton?"
The young man shook his head.
"Not particularly, sir," he replied. "By the bye, you owe me four days' money. Would it be quite convenient—?"
"You shall have it," Mr. Waddington declared, thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket. "I can't afford it, for things are going badly with me. Here it is, though. Thirty-four shillings—that's near enough. Anything else?"