"He's got a cold in his head."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, he got his feet wet," said Mr. Loyd confidentially, "and I had to bawl at him this morning."
"I thought he was, ahem! a little deaf."
"Bless you no, raise your voice, that's all you've got to do."
"Ah! I see. It's bad to be like that," answered Mr. Maybrick, whose doubts were removed. "The weather's been so bad, everyone has had cold more or less."
Telling the intelligent Joseph that he should expect him home to dinner at seven, Mr. Loyd took leave of the broker, who gave his new clerk some accounts to enter in a book, saying that he might sit in his office for the remainder of that day and he would find him desk-room on the morrow, after which he hurried away to see what was going on in the general room.
Joseph hung up his hat and coat, and set to work. He certainly meant to do his best. They say a certain place, which the Hebrews call Sheol, is paved with good intentions; anyhow the fates were against him. Never before had his deafness been so bad. It seemed to have swooped down upon and swamped him all at once.
Scarcely had he begun his work than he was startled by the ringing of a bell.
It was just over his head and proceeded from the telephone.