“That,” concluded Erb, “that is where we all sign.”
“Your respectful and obedient servants, I should say,” suggested the elderly carman.
“Hark!” said Erb authoritatively. “The terms of this have all been very carefully considered, and once you begin to interfere with them, you’ll mar the unity of the whole thing. Payne, got your pen?”
Payne seemed to feel that he was adjusting his quarrel with domestic events by dipping his penholder into an inkstand and signing his name fiercely. Erb followed, and the other men contributed to the irregular circle of names. The elderly carman hesitated, but one of his colleagues remarked that one might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and the elderly carman appeared to derive great encouragement from this, signing his name carefully and legibly, and looking at it when done with something like affection.
“I sha’n’t ask you to get away with your loads many more times,” shouted the van foreman from the other end of the arch. “Yes, it’s you I’m talkin’ to. You’re all champion mikers, every one of you. I wouldn’t give three ’apence a dozen for you, not if I was allowed to pick and choose.”
The men flushed.
“Chaps,” said Erb quickly, “there’s only one thing we might add. Shall we recommend that this old nuisance be done away with? I can easily work it in.”
“I beg to second that,” growled Payne.
“Thought you wasn’t taking any suggestions?” remarked the elderly carman.
“This is more than a suggestion,” said Erb masterfully. “Are we all agreed?” The men held up their hands, shoulder high. “Much obliged! Payne, after you with that pen.”