“Then I can’t imagine why Mr. Fairchild should have hired you. You can’t be of much use here.”
Chester began to feel discouraged. All this was certainly very depressing.
“I shall try to make myself useful,” he said.
“Oh, yes,” sneered Mr. Mullins, “new boys always say that.”
There was a railing stretching across the office about midway, dividing it into two parts. The table and desk were inside. The remaining space was left for the outside public.
A poor woman entered the office, her face bearing the impress of sorrow.
“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” she asked.
“No, he isn’t.”
“I’ve come in about the month’s rent.”
“Very well! You can pay it to me. What name?”