Puddicombe. Really, Mr. SCROOP, I don't see how they can—
H. of D. (rudely). That's their business. I only know they will, and jump at it.
Puddicombe (hesitatingly). But—er—I thought, when I made that little arrangement with you, a year ago, about the trifling bonus to you, you know, I thought you as good as promised—
H. of D. (severely). Mr. PUDDICOMBE, you surprise me. I am here, Sir, to do the best I can for the Firm—and I shall do it. If somebody else's prices are better than yours, somebody else gets the line, that's all. Good day, Mr. PUDDICOMBE. (Aside.) Confound his impudence!—he shan't have another order if I can help it! Trifling bonus, indeed! One thing, he daren't split—so I'm safe.
[Exit PUDDICOMBE, despondently. Enter, presently, a hopeful-looking person, with a sample-bag.
H. of D. (cheerily). Ah, Mr. PINCHER, how do—how do? Haven't seen you for an age.
Mr. Pincher. Good day, Mr. SCROOP. I heard you wanted to see me, and, as I've a very cheap line in your way, I thought, as I was passing, I'd venture to look in.
H. of D. Quite right, PINCHER. What's the figure, my boy?
Pincher (slily). A shade lower than the lowest you've been giving. Is that good enough?
H. of D. Well—ahem!—yes—of course, if the quality is right.