The Firm of Girdlestone | Page 2

young
man, who leaned against the marble mantel-piece, turning over the
pages of an almanac, and taking from time to time a stealthy peep over
the top of it at the toilers around him. Command was imprinted in every
line of his strong, square-set face and erect, powerful frame. Above the

medium size, with a vast spread of shoulder, a broad aggressive jaw,
and bright bold glance, his whole pose and expression spoke of
resolution pushed to the verge of obstinacy. There was something
classical in the regular olive-tinted features and black, crisp, curling
hair fitting tightly to the well-rounded head. Yet, though classical, there
was an absence of spirituality. It was rather the profile of one of those
Roman emperors, splendid in its animal strength, but lacking those
subtle softnesses of eye and mouth which speak of an inner life. The
heavy gold chain across the waistcoat and the bright stone which blazed
upon the finger were the natural complement of the sensuous lip and
curving chin. Such was Ezra, only child of John Girdlestone, and heir
to the whole of his vast business. Little wonder that those who had an
eye to the future bent over their ledgers and worked with a vigour
calculated to attract the attention of the junior partner, and to impress
him with a due sense of their enthusiastic regard for the interests of the
firm.
It was speedily apparent, however, that the young gentleman's estimate
of their services was not entirely based upon their present performance.
With his eyes still fixed upon the almanac and a sardonic smile upon
his dark face, he uttered a single word--
"Parker!"
A flaxen-haired clerk, perched at the further end of the high glistening
desk, gave a violent start, and looked up with a scared face.
"Well, Parker, who won?" asked the junior partner.
"Won, sir!" the youth stammered.
"Yes, who won?" repeated his employer.
"I hardly understand you, sir," the clerk said, growing very red and
confused.
"Oh yes, you do, Parker," young Girdlestone remarked, tapping his
almanac sharply with the paper-knife. "You were playing odd man out

with Robson and Perkins when I came in from lunch. As I presume you
were at it all the time I was away, I have a natural curiosity to know
who won."
The three unhappy clerks fixed their eyes upon their ledgers to avoid
the sarcastic gaze of their employer. He went on in the same quiet
tones--
"You gentlemen draw about thirty shillings a week from the firm. I
believe I am right in my figures, Mr. Gilray?" addressing the senior
clerk seated at the high solitary desk apart from the others. "Yes, I
thought so. Now, odd man out is, no doubt, a very harmless and
fascinating game, but you can hardly expect us to encourage it so far as
to pay so much an hour for the privilege of having it played in our
counting-house. I shall therefore recommend my father to deduct five
shillings from the sum which each of you will receive upon Saturday.
That will cover the time which you have devoted to your own
amusements during the week."
He paused, and the three culprits were beginning to cool down and
congratulate themselves, when he began again.
"You will see, Mr. Gilray, that this deduction is made," he said, "and at
the same time I beg that you will deduct ten shillings from your own
salary, since, as senior clerk, the responsibility of keeping order in this
room in the absence of your employers rests with you, and you appear
to have neglected it. I trust you will look to this, Mr. Gilray."
"Yes, sir," the senior clerk answered meekly. He was an elderly man
with a large family, and the lost ten shillings would make a difference
to the Sunday dinner. There was nothing for it but to bow to the
inevitable, and his little pinched face assumed an expression of gentle
resignation. How to keep his ten young subordinates in order, however,
was a problem which vexed him sorely.
The junior partner was silent, and the remaining clerks were working
uneasily, not exactly knowing whether they might not presently be
included in the indictment. Their fears were terminated, however, by

the sharp sound of a table-gong and the appearance of a boy with the
announcement that Mr. Girdlestone would like a moment's
conversation with Mr. Ezra. The latter gave a keen glance at his
subjects and withdrew into the back office, a disappearance which was
hailed by ten pens being thrown into the air and deftly caught again,
while as many derisive and triumphant young men mocked at the
imploring efforts of old Gilray in the interests of law and order.
The sanctum of Mr. John Girdlestone was approached by two doors,
one