"I have a great mind to get rid of that fellow!" said Mr. Heighington.
"I wouldn't, Master Frank, if I were you," replied the old clerk. "He has been here a good many years now, on and off."
"The sooner he is off the better. I never liked the look of him."
"I can't say that poor Reardon has looked very well lately, sir," replied Marshall. "It's my belief that he's half-starved, and ill besides."
"Then you do not think he drinks?" asked Mr. Heighington.
"Not he, sir. I think that perhaps he would be all the better for a glass Of beer occasionally."
"Why does he not get it, then?"
"After all," said the good old clerk, "the wages, as he says, sir, ain't much to keep four of them. Suppose you were to raise them a little, Mr. Frank?"
"And yet Reardon himself confessed that hundreds would be glad to do the work for less money."
"God help them, poor things! But Mr. Reardon is a man who has seen better days. It's hard to come down in the world, harder even than it is to get up. I don't think he is long for this life, poor fellow, and can only hope that he may be ready for the life to come—that's the great thing, Mr. Frank."