He said:
“Be industrious, Mr. Corkey, and let me have the pleasure of reporting favourably when the time comes to give an account of your labours to the Secretary.”
I said:
“Yes, sir, I will do my best.”
He looked at me and smiled.
“A great promise,” he said. “To do your best, Mr. Corkey, is to be one man picked out of a thousand.”
I had no idea, then, that it was such a rare thing to do your best; but he knew. And I found afterwards that it is not only rare but frightfully difficult, and no doubt that is why so few people do it.
Mr. Westonshaugh, for that was the name of this good man, called a subordinate, and a fair, pale clerk in the prime of life, with a large amber mustache and a high forehead, responded to the summons.
“This is Mr. Corkey,” said the Chief. “He goes into your division, Mr. Blades. I need not ask you to look after him and indicate the duties. He passed a good examination and is quite ready to set to work.”
I followed Mr. Blades and walked down the great room. There were two desks apart in one corner at which old, bald, spectacled men sat, and at the other desks, already mentioned, the full strength of the Department was already busily occupied.