" But, at length, finding I was not to be betrayed
into questioning, she observed:
"If William Craven knew the distress I am in, he would not be out of
town enjoying himself, I'll be bound."
"I am quite certain he would not," I answered, boldly. "But as he is
away, is there nothing we can do for you?"
She shook her head mournfully. "You're all a parcel of boys and children
together," was her comprehensive answer.
"But there is our manager, Mr. Taylor," I suggested.
"Him!" she exclaimed. "Now, if you don't want me to walk out of the
office and never set foot in it again, don't talk to me about Taylor."
"Has Mr. Taylor offended you?" I ventured to inquire.
"Lads of your age should not ask too many questions," she replied. "What
I have against Taylor is nothing to you; only don't make me desperate by
mentioning his name."
I hastened to assure her that it should never be uttered by me again in
her presence, and there ensued a pause, which she filled by looking
round the office and taking a mental inventory of everything it
contained.
Eventually, her survey ended in this remark, "And he can go out of town
as well, and keep a brougham for his wife, and draw them daughters of
his out like figures in a fashion-book, and my poor sister's child
living in a two-pair lodging.
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