h a red serge blouse, and her black hair
done on top of her head, was waiting like a proud little bantam.

"Here y'are!" said Pappleworth.

"I think it is 'here you are'!" exclaimed Polly. "The girls have been
here nearly half an hour waiting. Just think of the time wasted!"

"YOU think of getting your work done and not talking so much," said Mr.
Pappleworth. "You could ha' been finishing off."

"You know quite well we finished everything off on Saturday!" cried
Pony, flying at him, her dark eyes flashing.

"Tu-tu-tu-tu-terterter!" he mocked. "Here's your new lad. Don't ruin him
as you did the last."

"As we did the last!" repeated Polly. "Yes, WE do a lot of ruining, we
do. My word, a lad would TAKE some ruining after he'd been with you."

"It's time for work now, not for talk," said Mr. Pappleworth severely
and coldly.

"It was time for work some time back," said Polly, marching away with
her head in the air. She was an erect little body of forty.

In that room were two round spiral machines on the bench under the
window. Through the inner doorway was another longer room, with six more
machines. A little group of girls, nicely dressed in white aprons, stood
talking together.

"Have you nothing else to do but talk?" said Mr. Pappleworth.

"Only wait for you," said one handsome girl, laughing.

"Well, get on, get on," he said. "Come on, my lad. You'll know your road
down here again."

And Paul ran upstairs after his chief. He was given some checking
and invoicing to do. He stood at the desk, labouring in his execrable
handwriting. Presently Mr. Jordan came strutting down from the glass
office and stood behind him, to the boy's great discomfort. Suddenly a
red and fat finger was thrust on the form he was filling in.

"MR. J. A. Bates, Esquire!" exclaimed the cross voice just behind his
ear.

Paul looked at "Mr. J. A. Bates, Esquire" in his own vile writing, and
wondered what was the matter now.

"Didn't they teach you any better THAN that while they were at it? If
you put 'Mr.' you don't put Esquire'-a man can't be both at once."

The boy regretted his too-much generosity in disposing of honours,
hesitated, and with trembling fingers, scratched out the "Mr." Then all
at once Mr. Jordan snatched away the invoice.

"Make another! Are you going to send that to a gentleman?" And he tore
up the blue form irritably.

Paul, his ears red with shame, began again. Still Mr. Jordan watched.

"I don't know w