“I know that, sir,” said Dutch, warmly. “He is as true as steel.”
“Right, Pugh, my dear boy—right. But look here,” he continued, thrusting a finger in the young man’s button-hole, “I wish you would drop that ‘sir’ to me. I don’t like it. I’m only a business fellow, and you’ve had the education of a gentleman, and I feel sometimes as if I ought to say ‘sir’ to you.”
“My dear sir—”
“There you go again.”
“Well, my dear Mr Parkley, then, I have you to thank for so much kindness.”
“Stuff! stuff! stuff!” cried the elder, laying his hand playfully on his mouth. “You came to me to help me, and I was to pay you for that help. Well, look here, Pugh, you’ve been no end of value to me, and get more useful every day. What I pay you is nonsense to what you are worth. Now, look here; in three months the current business year with me will be up, and I’m going to ask you to join me as junior partner.”
“Mr Parkley!” cried the young man, astounded, as his employer leaped off his stool, and took down and replaced his hat.
“Say no more,” he cried; “I don’t act without thinking, do I?”
“Never, sir.”
“Then it’s all right. Catch hold of this,” he continued, handing the young man one end of the comforter, and then, tucking the other in under his waistcoat, he slowly wound himself up in it again, tapped the letter, and said, “Big job on here—I’m going to see them about it;” and then, lifting his feet in his peculiar way, he seemed to move out of the office as if he were under water, and the door closed behind him.