“It don’t get any better,” reflected Johnny, with some alarm, on reaching the corner of Cheapside. “Hope I’m not going to be ill. Whatever—” The explanation came to him. “Of course, it’s these damned stays! No wonder girls are short-tempered, at times.”
At the offices of the Marble Soap, Johnny was treated with marked courtesy. Mr. Jowett was out, was not expected back till five o’clock. Would the lady wait, or would she call again? The lady decided, now she was there, to wait. Would the lady take the easy-chair? Would the lady have the window open or would she have it shut? Had the lady seen The Times?
“Or the Ha’penny Joker?” suggested a junior clerk, who thereupon was promptly sent back to his work.
Many of the senior clerks had occasion to pass through the waiting-room. Two of the senior clerks held views about the weather which they appeared wishful to express at length. Johnny began to enjoy himself. This thing was going to be good fun. By the time the slamming of doors and the hurrying of feet announced the advent of the chief, Johnny was looking forward to his interview.
It was briefer and less satisfactory than he had anticipated. Mr. Jowett was very busy—did not as a rule see anybody in the afternoon; but of course, a lady—“Would Miss—”
“Montgomery.”
“Would Miss Montgomery inform Mr. Jowett what it was he might have the pleasure of doing for her?”
Miss Montgomery explained.
Mr. Jowett seemed half angry, half amused.
“Really,” said Mr. Jowett, “this is hardly playing the game. Against our fellow-men we can protect ourselves, but if the ladies are going to attack us—really it isn’t fair.”