There was an absence of sprightliness in Gray's manner at the office that day. He sat in gloomy solitude at his desk, nursing his wrath. All efforts on the part of Busby to draw him into conversation were useless. George, on the contrary, was in good spirits, so cheerful, in fact, that Parrott and Busby began to feel a little uncomfortable.
"He's up to some mischief," thought the head clerk. "I shall have to keep my eye on him." His fears were confirmed a little later on in the afternoon. The freckled Matthews entered his office and asked permission for one of the carmen to speak with him.
"Who is it?" asked Parrott.
"Old Josh. Wants to see you particularly."
Old Josh was ushered in—a little tubby, weather-beaten old man with a squeaky voice. He entered at once into a recital of family woes, in which his son-in-law, who was out of work, figured prominently. Before his daughter married the family had been comfortably off—always had a good dinner on Sundays, never knew what it was to want a shilling; week in and week out there was the money; and there were they all happy and comfortable. His son-in-law had had bad luck, and that bad luck meant help from the old people, and the worry of it had made the missis ill; and, what with one thing and another, the family funds had fallen low, there was rent in arrears, and things had come to a crisis.
"Well," said Parrott, "I'll see what I can do, but of course, you know, you're getting the highest limit of wages the firm allows. Perhaps I may be able to make it another shilling. I'll see what I can do, Benson."
Benson murmured his thanks, and proceeded to launch forth into a fresh budget of troubles.
"Very well," said Parrott, nervously. "I'll let you know as soon as I've seen Miss Fairbrother."
Old Josh twirled his cap for a moment and then said—
"The fact of it is, sir, you see, it ain't so much the shilling a week, which is welcome, though small. It's the present needs, as you may say, that knocks us over."