By the time he turned up at Beadle Square I had somewhat recovered my equanimity, and the rest of the evening was spent in talking about indifferent matters, and avoiding all serious topics. Among other things, I told Jack of the expected addition to the staff at Hawk Street, which interested him greatly, especially as the new-comer was to work in the Import department.
“I hope he’ll be a nice fellow,” he said. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. He’s a nephew of Merrett’s, they say, and a good fellow. He’s coming in as a clerk at first, but Harris says he’s to be taken in as a partner in time.”
“Then he’s only a boy yet?”
“I suppose so—seventeen or eighteen.”
Of course there was a considerable amount of speculation and curiosity as to the new arrival during the week which followed. I think most of us were a little jealous, and Doubleday was especially indignant at the fellow’s meanness in being the governor’s nephew.
“Of course, he’ll peach about all we do,” growled he, “and give his precious uncle a full, true, and particular account every evening of everything every one of us has been up to during the day. And the worst of it is, one can’t even lick the beggar now and then, like any other fellow.”
It undoubtedly was hard lines, and we all sympathised not a little with the chief clerk’s grievance.
Our suspense was not protracted. On the appointed day Mr Merrett arrived, accompanied by a slender youth of about eighteen, at sight of whom Jack and I started as though we had been shot. The new-comer was no other than our former schoolfellow, Hawkesbury.
If a skeleton had walked into the office we could not have been more taken aback. Of all persons in the world, who would have guessed that this fellow whom we had last seen at Stonebridge House, and had never even heard of since should turn up now as the nephew of our employer, and as one of our own future chiefs at the office?