“Try him,” said Mr Fluke, pointing to Owen.
“Come along with me,” said Mr Tarwig, and he made a sign to Owen to get up on a high stool, handing him, at the same time, the draft of a letter. “There, copy that.”
Owen transcribed it in a clear, regular hand, correcting two or three errors in spelling.
“Good,” said Mr Tarwig, as he glanced over it, perhaps not discovering the improvement in the latter respect. “Now cast up these figures,” and he handed him a long account.
Owen performed the work rapidly, and when checked by Mr Tarwig, it was found to be perfectly correct.
“Good,” said the head clerk; “you’ll do.”
He handed him several accounts in succession, and which required considerable calculation.
“Ah me!” exclaimed Mr Tarwig, and taking the papers he actually went across the office to show them to his immediate surbordinate, who looked round with a surprised glance at the young stranger.
What “Ah me!” meant Owen could not tell, but he judged that Mr Tarwig was satisfied with his performance. Owen had not forgotten John.
“A friend is waiting for me outside, sir,” he said; “if I am not wanted, I must rejoin him.”