“The directors would appoint any one I recommended,” continued Mr Medlock, looking down with satisfaction on the boy’s eagerness; “you’re young, of course, but you seem to be honest, that’s the great thing.”
“I think I can promise that,” said Reginald, proudly.
“The salary would begin at £150 a year, but we should improve it if you turned out well. And you would, of course, occupy the Company’s house at Liverpool. We should not ask for a premium in your case, but you would have to put £50 into the shares of the Corporation to qualify you, and of course you would get interest on that. Now,” said he, as Reginald began to speak, “don’t be in a hurry. Take your time and think it well over. If you say ‘Yes,’ you may consider the thing settled, and if you say ‘No’—well, we shall be able to find some one else. Ah, here comes lunch—stop and have some with me—bring another plate, waiter.”
Reginald felt too bewildered to know what to think or say. He a secretary of a company with £150 a year! It was nearly intoxicating. And for the post spontaneously offered to him in the almost flattering way it had been—this was more gratifying still. In his wildest dreams just now he never pictured himself sitting down as secretary to the Select Agency Corporation to lunch with one of its leading directors!
Mr Medlock said no more about “business”, but made himself generally agreeable, asking Reginald about his father and the old days, inquiring as to his mother and brother, and all about his friends and acquaintances in London.
Reginald felt he could talk freely to this friend, and he did so. He confided to him all about Mr Durfy’s tyranny, about his brother’s work at the Rocket, and even went so far as to drop out a hint in young Gedge’s favour. He told him all about Wilderham and his schoolfellows there, about the books he liked, about the way he spent his evenings, about Dull Street—in fact, he felt as if he had known Mr Medlock for years and could talk to him accordingly.
“I declare,” said that gentleman, pulling out his watch, after this pleasant talk had been going on a long time, “it’s five minutes past two. I’m afraid you’ll be late.”
Reginald started up.
“So I shall, I’d no idea it was so late. I’m afraid I had better go, sir.”
“Well, write me a letter to Liverpool to-morrow, or Wednesday at the latest, as we must fill up the place soon. Think it well over. Good-bye, my man. I hope I shall see you again before long. By the way, of course, you won’t talk about all this out of doors.”