“Don’t know. He’s a nephew, I believe, of old Merrett’s. The old boy told me the other day he was to come into my department to learn the business. He says I’m to teach him all I know, as he wants him to get on.”
“That’s pleasant. I suppose he’s to be shoved over our heads, and tell us all what to do.”
“Never fear,” said Harris; “I sha’n’t teach him too much. But the governor says he’s a ‘youth of good principles and fair attainments,’ and thinks I shall like him.”
Crow whistled.
“‘Good principles and fair attainments!’ That’s a good un. I guess he’s come to the wrong shop with those goods. Nobody deals in them here that I know of.”
“Speak for yourself,” retorted Doubleday, sententiously. “No one suspected you of going in for either, but Batchelor and I flatter ourselves we are a little in that line.”
“Well, if you are,” said Wallop, breaking in, “all I can say is, young Batchelor had better show his principle by stepping round to Shoddy’s and paying his bill there, or he may ‘attain’ to something he doesn’t expect.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “I’ve only had the things a fortnight, and he said I needn’t pay for them for a month.”
“No doubt he did,” said Wallop, not observing that Jack had by this time returned from the partners’ room, and was seated once more at his desk. “No doubt he’d have let you go on tick for a twelve month, but when he finds you owe all round to the butcher and baker and candlestick maker, no wonder he gets a bit shy. Why, only yesterday—”
“Will you mind your own business?” I exclaimed, desperately, not knowing how to turn the talk.