“I expect it’ll take some time for you to get into the way of it,” said the captain, with a view to giving the conversation a more cheerful turn.
“I expect it will,” said the new master, thinking of the starfish.
“It’s a mercy Simmons wasn’t took too,” said the captain, shaking his head. “As it is, he’s spared; he’ll be able to teach you. There ain’t”—he lowered his voice, not wishing to make Simmons unduly proud—“there ain’t a smarter clerk in all Liverpool than wot he is.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said the new master, regarding the old man with raised eyebrows, as he extricated a plethoric-looking canvas bag from his jacket pocket and dropped it with a musical crash on the chipped office table. His eyebrows went still higher, as the old man unfastened the string, and emptying the contents on to the table, knitted his brows into reflective wrinkles, and began to debit the firm with all the liabilities of a slow but tenacious memory.
“Oh, come,” said the owner sharply, as the old man lovingly hooked out the sum of five-and sixpence as a first instalment, “this won’t do, cap’n.”
“Wot won’t do, Mas’r Edward?” inquired the old man in surprise.
“Why, this way of doing business,” said the other. “It’s not businesslike at all, you know.”
“Well, it’s the way me an’ your pore old father has done it this last thirty year,” said the skipper, “an’ I’m sure I’ve never knowingly cheated him out of a ha’penny; and a better man o’ business than your father never breathed.”
“Yes; well, I’m going to do things a bit differently,” said the new master. “You must give me a proper disbursement sheet, cap’n, if you please.”
“And what may that be?” inquired Captain Fazackerly, as with great slowness he gathered up the money and replaced it in the bag; “I never heard of it afore.”