"Who's been upsetting Polly?" asked George, looking round; "seems to have got 'em, doesn't he?"
"Wants a cracker," said the shorthand clerk; "got a bad attack of the pip."
"If he'd like his poll scratched," said George, impudently, "he's only got to say so."
A red-haired junior chimed in.
"It ain't that," he said; "Polly's looking for a new perch. Thinks Old Joe'll be wanting a manager soon."
Any reference to the head of the firm interested George.
"What's the matter with Old Joe?" he asked.
"Matter? What ain't the matter? you mean. Got one foot in the grave and the other on the edge. The poor old chap's fairly breaking up."
George turned thoughtfully to his work, but his mind ran on other things; the decay of the head of the firm opened up possibilities of promotion. A manager would be wanted soon.
To jump from the position of clerk to manager was unusual, but unusual things of that sort had a fascination for George Early. The work would just suit him; he always felt he was born to command. Compared with the other men in the office, George was quite a new hand; but the other men had less imagination and less confidence, and if they chose to follow the method of rising step by step it was their own affair.