“I want a list made out of all the goods sent to Mr Walker, of Bombay, since the beginning of the year. Let me see you make it out.” Then touching his bell again, he said to Mr Doubleday, the clerk, “Here, Doubleday, give this boy some invoice paper and a pen, and let him write at your desk. He is to make a copy of all Walker’s invoices since the beginning of this year.”
“Yes, sir,” said Doubleday.
“Be particular that he receives no assistance, and bring me the sheets when completed. Batchelor, take this book and follow Mr Doubleday to the counting-house.”
“Do it as well as you can, without any help,” mildly put in Mr Merrett, by way of encouragement.
I followed my conductor in a state of terrible trepidation, feeling that all this wasn’t a bit like what I had expected my interview with Messrs Merrett, Barnacle, and Company to be.
“Here, hop up, young fellow,” said Mr Doubleday, pointing to a high stool at one of the desks, “and pull up your boot.”
I concluded this last expression meant make haste, and I accordingly pulled up my boot, and lost no time in setting myself to my task.
I was to make out a list of all that Walker of Bombay had had since the beginning of the year. I opened the big account-book; it contained a great many accounts, some long, some short. I began at the beginning, and searched through for any belonging to Walker of Bombay.
At length, after about twenty pages, I found an entry dated December 30th last year. That would not do; I was only to make a list of what had been sent this year; and yet, on looking again, I saw it noted that these goods, though entered on the 30th of December, had not been shipped till the 2nd of January. Here was a poser to begin with. I looked up and caught the eye of Doubleday, who, evidently enjoying my perplexity, was watching me.
“I say,” I ventured to say, “does he mean—”