"A spirit of levity—" began Mr. Pett.
"I laugh that I may not weep," explained Jimmy. "Try to think what this means to a bright young man who loathes work. Be kind to me. Instruct your floor-walkers to speak gently to me at first. It may be a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done, but don't ask me to enjoy it! It's all right for you. You're the boss. Any time you want to call it a day and go off and watch a ball-game, all you have to do is to leave word that you have an urgent date to see Mr. Rockerfeller. Whereas I shall have to submerge myself in paper and only come up for air when the danger of suffocation becomes too great."
It may have been the mention of his favourite game that softened Mr. Pett. The frostiness which had crept into his manner thawed.
"It beats me," he said, "why you ever came over at all, if you feel like that."
"Duty!" said Jimmy. "Duty! There comes a time in the life of every man when he must choose between what is pleasant and what is right."
"And that last fool-game of yours, that Lord Percy Whipple business, must have made London pretty hot for you?" suggested Mr. Pett.
"Your explanation is less romantic than mine, but there is something in what you say."
"Had it occurred to you, young man, that I am taking a chance putting a fellow like you to work in my office?"
"Have no fear. The little bit of work I shall do won't make any difference."
"I've half a mind to send you straight back to London."