All this was said in a loud voice, evidently for the benefit of Smith. He, however, heeded it not, but quietly took his pen and blotting-paper from his desk, and turning to Harris said, “I want that ledger to go on with, if you’ll unlock the safe, please.”
Harris stared in astonishment. It had passed his comprehension how the fellow could have the face to show up at the office at all, but for him to have the audacity to address a fellow-clerk, and that fellow-clerk Harris, of all people, seemed fairly to stun that worthy.
It took him fully half a minute to recover his speech. Then he stammered out in white heat, “Eh? Do you know who you’re speaking to—you cad?”
“I’m speaking to you,” said Smith, calmly.
“Then what do you mean by it, you son of a thief?” demanded Harris. “When I want you to speak to me I’ll ask you—there.”
Smith looked up with a slight flush on his face.
“You seem to want to quarrel,” he said. “I don’t intend to quarrel. I’ll wait till you choose to unlock the safe.”
This mild reply seemed to exasperate Harris far more than an angry retort would have done. He was naturally short-tempered, and when conscious that he was being worsted in an argument before his fellow-clerks he was always particularly savage.
He walked up to Smith and demanded furiously, “Didn’t I tell you I’m not going to be spoken to by a low gaol-bird like you? If you don’t hold your tongue I’ll give you such a thrashing as will make you remember it.”
“Come now, you fellows,” said Doubleday, “if you must have a row, keep it to yourselves. The governor will be here in a second. Plenty of time for a shindy in the evening.”