"This is Mr. Williams, who lives at the antipodes of everything that is quiet or serious, whose mission to the earth seems expressly to turn everything he touches into a laugh. He is not a 'youth to fortune and to fame unknown,' for in the archives of the King's Head his name is emblazoned in imperishable characters."
"Well said, Hardy!" said one or two at once. "Now, Williams, you are on your mettle, old boy; stand true to your colours, and transmute the sentence into a joke in self-defence."
Williams was on the point of replying when Mr. Sanders entered. In an instant all the clerks pretended to be up to their eyes in business; each had his book or papers to hand as if by magic; whether upside down or not was immaterial.
But George Weston stood where he was; he could not condescend to so mean an imposition, and he felt pleased to see that Charles Hardy, unlike the others, made no attempt to hide the fact that he had been engaged in conversation, instead of continuing at his work.
At six o'clock the day's duties were over; and George felt not a little pleased when the hour struck, and Mr. Sanders told him he could go. Hardy was leaving just at the same time, and so they went out together.
"Are you going anywhere in my direction?" said Hardy; "I live at Canonbury."
"Indeed!" replied George; "I'm glad to hear that, for I live at Islington, close by you. If you are willing, we will bear one another company, for I want to ask you one or two questions;" and taking Hardy's arm, the two strolled homewards together.
Now George would never have thought of walking arm in-arm with Mr. Williams, or any of the other clerks; but, from the first time he saw Hardy, and noticed his quiet, gentlemanly manners, he felt sure he should like him. Hardy, too, had evidently taken a fancy to George; and therefore both felt pleased that accident had brought them together. Accident? No, that is a wrong word; whenever a heart feels that there is another heart beating like its own, and those two hearts go out one towards the other, until they become knit together in the bonds of friendship, there is something more than accident in that.
"How long have you been in Mr. Compton's office?" said George, as they walked along,
"Nearly two years," he replied; "I went there as soon as I left school. I was then about seventeen years old; and there I have been ever since."