While they were in the store he was all bows and smiles, struck imposing attitudes, fumbled with the watch-chain that hung across his vest, rested his white hands on the counter, so that the immense seal-ring he wore on the third finger of his left hand could be plainly seen, and tried in various other ways to make himself appear interesting in the eyes of his fair customers; but now he frowned fiercely, and slammed the heavy bolts about as if he were in no amiable frame of mind.
He grew angry every time he looked toward the street. The day was bright and pleasant, and not too warm for comfort, and everybody in town seemed to have come out for a ride or a promenade.
“Everybody except me sees some pleasure in this world,” said Mr. Arthur Howard, resuming his work. “I have to toil and slave all the time for wages that are barely enough to keep me in cigars; and, more than all, I can’t look forward to anything better. I shall lead a dog’s life as long as I live. If I had money I should be perfectly happy, and I would do anything in the world to get it. What did you say, sir?”
This question was addressed to one of the proprietors of the store, who leaned over the counter and said something in a tone so low that Arthur did not catch the words.
“Mr. Allen desires your presence in the office,” was the reply.
The clerk’s under jaw dropped, and he grew red and pale by turns, as he left his counter and walked toward the office, where the head of the firm, a stern old gentleman, with gold eye glasses perched on the top of his nose, sat in an easy chair waiting for him.
“Howard,” said the merchant, when the clerk in obedience to a sign from his employer, had closed the door behind him, “how much do we pay you for your services?”
“Twenty-five dollars a month, sir,” was the answer.
And the tone in which it was given was humble enough. The clerk was always cringing in his demeanor toward his superiors, and haughty and overbearing when in the presence of those whom he considered to be beneath him in the social scale. He was just the sort of person that tyrants are made of.
“Well, now, what I want to know is this,” continued the senior partner. “How can you afford to dress as you do, and sport a watch and chain, and rings, and patent-leather shoes, on twenty-five dollars a month? I can’t afford so much finery on ten times that amount. Then, your billiards and cigars must cost you a tidy sum, and you don’t get those livery horses that you drive out into the country every Sunday for nothing.”