"Sit down, Mr. Parrott," said Joseph Fairbrother; "one moment—hand me a cigar, please, and take one yourself."
The head clerk nervously helped himself to a cigar, and followed the lead of his chief as he lit up.
For another five minutes the old gentleman gazed abstractedly into the fire, finally shifting his gaze to the face of Parrott, who looked at everything in the room except his employer.
"Mr. Parrott," said Old Fairbrother, solemnly, "do you know why I have brought you here?"
The head clerk looked up with a start and coughed. He did not know why he had been brought there.
"Then I'll tell you," said his master. "I have made my will, Parrott, and I'm going to talk about a little legacy I have left you."
Parrott didn't know what to do, so he looked as bright as he could, and cleared his throat, as if to reply.
"Wait a minute," said the old gentleman, lifting a finger; "don't you thank me till you know what you're getting. I've had my eye on you, Parrott, for a good many years; I've watched you grow from a boy upwards, and I've noticed your good points and your bad ones. You're not the only one I have watched, but you're the only one I'm going to talk about now. When I have had my little say with you, there are others I shall talk to."
He took a long pull at his cigar, and allowed his eyes to rest on the uncomfortable Parrott, who seemed somewhat more doubtful of the issue of the interview than he had been a while ago.
"You're not my ideal of a man, Parrott," he continued; "but, of course, we all have our faults. You're a good man at your duty, and you believe in others doing their duty, which is right enough. There are not many in the office that love you, and I dare say you put it down to their selfishness and ignorance, or perhaps to envy. It isn't that, Parrott; it is you they don't like. They like a man who's sociable and one of them, and who's affable and generous. They don't like you because you're mean."