"Mr. Whippleton—last evening."
"What are you going to do?"
"I am engaged as entry clerk."
"Good! I'm glad to hear it. I'm yours truly. Who are you?"
"I'm yours truly," I replied, laughing.
"You're a brick! My name is Land Limpedon. What's yours?"
"Philip Farringford."
"Capital! Philip Farringford, I'm deuced glad to see you if you are to be the entry clerk. I've had to do some of that work, and I don't like it. I don't think writing is my forte. I suppose you can write."
"I can make my mark."
"That's about all I can do. You have come at just the right time. We are driven with business. By the way, you needn't wait for Mr. Whippleton. I'll set you at work. I've just sold a bill, and want it entered. Take your pen, old boy, and show us whether you can spatter the ink or not. By the way, are you a hard brick or a soft brick?"