The Brother Clerks | Page 7

cheaper than to take a boarding-house, I think;
and, besides, you can always have just what you call for. If you take my
advice, you'll take your meals here, too," said Wilkins, assuming a very
patronizing air, as he rang the little table bell for the waiter.
Arthur thanked him for his kindness, and asked him when they would
probably see Mr. Delancey.
"He's only in the store from nine in the morning till three in the
afternoon," replied Wilkins. "You will see him shortly after we get
back there."
When their meal was over, arm in arm they took their way back to the
store. It wasn't nine o'clock yet, so they didn't walk very briskly, but
looked about them, and made their comments to each other on the
appearance of the buildings, the streets, etc., etc., and Arthur drew
some comparisons between them and those in New-York. They reached
the store almost at the same time that a pony-chaise, driven by a very
respectable-looking negro man, drew up at the door. A tall, spare
gentleman, in a suit of black, stepped out of it, and after reaching back
for his walking-stick, entered the building. He had, apparently, seen
about fifty winters; he was active enough to be fifty, but he was
wrinkled and skinny enough to be sixty. His hair was quite grey, and of
a dry, husky nature, which prevented its ever looking smooth; and, in
consequence, it stuck straight up in front, and straight out at the sides,
in a very bristling and business-like manner. He had a deep frown
between the eyes, which were of a cold stone color, of a most peculiar
expression, and exceedingly quick and restless; always darting hither

and thither, never as if looking for a bright side to anything, but always
as if seeking for something amiss. His nose was high and pinched, but
long, also, and very hooked; so hooked that it seemed as if each nostril
had baited a corner of his mouth, and drawn it up in speaking distance,
so that when it was open, the end of that prodigious nasal organ might
refresh itself by looking down his throat.
There was a firmness in his tread, as he passed through the store,
looking quickly to the right and left, without turning his head, which
told of energy and decision; but there was in the whole appearance of
the man something repugnant and disagreeable, and a shadow seemed
to fall on every face he passed, so that the whole line of clerks, ranged
on either side behind the counters, and a moment before so cheerful and
bright, looked as if a pall had been dropped over them after he had gone
by.
Gulian and Arthur had shrunk back at his first entrance, and felt as
certain at that moment that this man was Mr. Delancey as they did a
few minutes afterwards, when Wilkins took them up, and formally
introduced them.
"So, you've come?" said he, by way of greeting, and turning his keen
eyes upon them alternately, as Wilkins named them, "which of you is it
that's been in the business before?"
"I, sir," said Arthur, stepping forward.
"What do you know about it? what have you been accustomed to
doing--anything more than sweeping out and cleaning the lamps?"
"I never swept out, or cleaned a lamp, in my life, sir. I have sold goods,
and sometimes taken charge of the books in the book-keeper's
absence."
"No airs, young man--don't want any exhibitions of pride here; you'll
have to do whatever you're set at in my service, if it's washing windows.
Can you make out, a bill?"

Arthur's face was very red, and angry words were on his lips, but
Guly's hand that moment touched his arm, and pressed it gently. He
remembered all, and answered calmly that he could.
"Step up here, then, and let me see you do it," said Mr. Delancey,
making room for him to use the large desk.
Arthur obeyed, and in a clear, bold hand, drew up the bill properly, and
handed it to him.
He ran it over with his eyes quickly and eagerly, as if certain of finding
a flaw; and there was something like disappointment in the tone of his
voice as he said, briefly, "Right, sir," and laid it down.
There was a moment's pause, during which Mr. Delancey busied
himself in writing down a great many figures on a piece of paper.
When he had finished he handed it to Arthur, with a look of triumph in
his face, and said, "Let's see you solve this problem correctly, if you
can."
That sneering "if you can," to Arthur's mind seemed to imply so much
doubt of his capacity, that he felt stung to the quick; and it