“Stow the polite, matey,” the boy muttered under his breath. What a baffling tongue was this with which he had to grapple!
The emissary from high places entered again.
“The Chief will see William Ewart Gladstone Smith,” he said. “And he desires that each applicant will have his references ready.”
The boy was now left alone. He found it impossible to control his excitement. He rose from his chair, now that no one else was present, and walked up and down the carpeted floor like a wild animal in a cage. What was meant by “references?” This was yet another new development; it had not been included in the programme. How much he had yet to learn in the practical sciences before he could hope to move about the great world out of doors in freedom and security! Even a man like William Ewart Gladstone Smith, who looked just an ordinary common street-person, made use of a vocabulary that was quite beyond his experience.
The wizened and undersized boy entered again.
“The Chief will see William Jordan, Junior,” he said.
Not knowing where he was, nor what he was doing, the boy turned to follow the emissary from high places. He was led through another door out into an ill-lit passage.
“Come in here a minute,” said the emissary.
He led the way into a small, dark room. Producing a clothes-brush, he began to wield it upon the applicant scrupulously.
“There’s a hair-brush,” he said, “if you’d like to brush your hair.”