“Late again,” said old Crampton, as Harry Vine entered the office.
“How I do hate the sight of that man’s nose!” said the young man; and he stared hard, as if forced by some attraction.
The old clerk frowned, and felt annoyed. “I beg pardon,” he said. “Granted,” said Harry, coolly. “I said I beg pardon, Mr Harry Vine.”
“I heard you.”
“But I thought you spoke.”
“No,” grumbled Harry. “I didn’t speak.”
“Then I will,” said old Crampton merrily. “Good morning, Mr Harry Vine,” and he rattled the big ruler by his desk.
“Eh? oh, yes, I see. Didn’t say it as I came in. Good morning, Mr Crampton.”
“Lesson for the proud young upstart in good behaviour,” grumbled old Crampton.
“Mother him!” muttered Harry, as he took his place at his desk, opened a big account book Crampton placed before him, with some amounts to transfer from one that was smaller, and began writing.