"And do they want you to tell untruths in the show-room or wash cars in the garage?" enquired Mr. Mablethorpe.
Dumps stiffened indignantly, but Philip laughed.
"They want me to boss the whole place," he said. "Hitherto they have had a man in charge of the show-room and another in charge of the garage, and there has been everlasting trouble between them. I gather that the show-room man is young—an old public-school boy—"
"I know! Wears white spats, and sends for an underling to open the bonnet of a car when a customer asks to see the works," said Mr. Mablethorpe. "Go on."
"And the repair-shop man is elderly and Yorkshire and a ranker. I fancy they parted brass-rags from the start, with the result that working expenses are too high—"
"Surprising!" murmured Mr. Mablethorpe.
"—And I have been told off to go to town and supervise the pair of them," concluded Philip. "Shall I?"
"Why not?"
"Well—I shall be giving up my other work, you know."
"What is your other work? Describe one of your ordinary days in detail."