“Junior clerkship. An intelligent lad, respectable, and quick at figures, wanted in a merchant’s office. Wages 8 shillings a week to commence. Apply by letter to Merrett, Barnacle, and Company, Hawk Street, London.”
I jumped up as if I had been shot, and rushed headlong with the paper to my uncle’s study.
“Look at this, uncle! This will do, I say! Read it, please.”
My uncle read it gravely, and then pushed the paper from him.
“Absurd. You would not do at all. That is not one of those I marked, is it?”
“No. But they were all awful. I say, uncle, let’s try for this.”
My uncle stared at me, and I looked anxiously at my uncle.
“Fred,” said he sternly, “I’m sorry to see you making a fool of yourself. However, it’s your affair, not mine.”
“But, uncle, I’m pretty quick at figures,” said I.
“And intelligent and respectable too, I suppose?” added my uncle, looking at me over his glasses. “Well, do as you choose.”