Charles sat down, and passed an hour gazing at the fire and listening to the pens scratching away at the desks. People were constantly passing in and out: the green-baize door seemed to be ever on the swing. Some brought messages; some were marshalled into Mr. Prestleigh's room. By-and-by, a youngish man—he might be thirty-five, perhaps—came in, in a warm white overcoat; and, from the attention and seriousness suddenly shown by the clerks generally, Charles rightly guessed him to be Mr. Preen. He passed through the room without speaking, and was followed by the head-clerk.
A few minutes more, and Charles was sent for to Mr. Preen's room. That gentleman—who had a great profusion of light curling hair and a pleasant face and manner—was alone, standing with his back to the fire near his table. He asked Charles very much the same questions that Mr. Stroud had asked, and particularly what his recent occupation had been. Charles told the truth: he had not been brought up to any occupation, but an unfortunate reverse of family circumstances was obliging him to seek one.
"You have not been in a solicitor's office, then! Not been accustomed to copying deeds?" cried Mr. Preen.
Charles confessed he had not. But he took courage to say he had no doubt he could do any copying required of him, and to beg that he might be tried.
"Is your handwriting a neat one?"
"Yes, it is," said Charles, eagerly, for he was speaking the truth. "Neat and good, and very plain."
"You think you could copy quickly and correctly?"
"I am sure I could, sir. I hope you will try me," he added, a curious entreaty in his tone, that perhaps he was himself unconscious of; but which was nevertheless apparent to Mr. Preen. "I have been seeking something so long, day after day, week after week, that I have almost lost heart."
Perhaps that last avowal was not the best aid to Charles's success; or would not have been with most men of business. With Mr. Preen, who was very good-natured, it told rather for than against him. The lawyer mused. They wanted a copying-clerk very badly indeed; being two hands short, including Fred Hartley, and extremely busy: but the question was, could this young man accomplish the work? A thought struck him.
"Suppose you were to stay now and copy a few pages this afternoon?" suggested Mr. Preen. "You see, if you cannot do the work, it would be useless your attempting it: but if you can, we will engage you."