“Which come pretty heavy on him sometimes, I expect,” observed Mr. Mathers.
“They needn’t,” said the Shipwreck Clerk, “if things were managed here as they ought to be. If John J. Laylor”—meaning thereby the Registrar—“was the right kind of a man you’d see things very different here from what they are now. There’d be a larger force.”
“That’s so,” said Mr. Mathers.
“And not only that, but there’d be better buildings and more accommodations. Were any of you ever up to Anster? Well, take a run up there some day, and see what sort of buildings the department has there. William Q. Green is a very different man from John J. Laylor. You don’t see him sitting in his chair and picking his teeth the whole winter, while the Representative from his district never says a word about his department from one end of a session of Congress to the other. Now if I had charge of things here, I’d make such changes that you wouldn’t know the place. I’d throw two rooms off here, and a corridor and entrance-door at that end of the building. I’d close up this door”—pointing toward the Registrar’s room—“and if John J. Laylor wanted to come in here he might go round to the end door like other people.”
The thought struck Harry Covare that in that case there would be no John J. Laylor, but he would not interrupt.
“And what is more,” continued the Shipwreck Clerk, “I’d close up this whole department at twelve o’clock on Saturdays. The way things are managed now, a man has no time to attend to his own private business. Suppose I think of buying a piece of land, and want to go out and look at it, or suppose any one of you gentlemen were here and thought of buying a piece of land and wanted to go out and look at it, what are you going to do about it? You don’t want to go on Sunday, and when are you going to go?”
Not one of the other gentlemen had ever thought of buying a piece of land, nor had they any reason to suppose that they ever would purchase an inch of soil unless they bought it in a flower-pot; but they all agreed that the way things were managed now there was no time for a man to attend to his own business.
“But you can’t expect John J. Laylor to do anything,” said the Shipwreck Clerk.
However, there was one thing which that gentleman always expected John J. Laylor to do. When the clerk was surrounded by a number of persons in hours of business, and when he had succeeded in impressing them with the importance of his functions and the necessity of paying deferential attention to himself if they wished their business attended to, John J. Laylor would be sure to walk into the office and address the Shipwreck Clerk in such a manner as to let the people present know that he was a clerk and nothing else, and that he, the Registrar, was the head of that department. These humiliations the Shipwreck Clerk never forgot.
There was a little pause here, and then Mr. Mathers remarked: