There
were certain pensioners, mostly undeserving, who knew old Mr.
Bowdoin's hours better than he did himself. It was funny to see old
McMurtagh elbow these aside as he sidelonged up the street. There was
an old drunken longshoreman; and a wood-chopper who never chopped
wood; and a retired choreman discharged for cause by Mr. Bowdoin's
wife; and another shady party, suspected by Mr. James, not without
cause, of keeping in his more prosperous moments a modest
farobank,--all of whom were sure enough of their shilling could they
catch old Mr. Bowdoin in the office alone. If they waylaid him in the
street, it annoyed him a little, and he would give them only
ninepence. It was currently believed by Mr. James and Jamie that there
was a combination among these gentry not to give away the source
whence they derived this modest but assured income. Once there had
been Homeric strife and outcry on the dusty wooden stairs; and Mr.
James had rushed out only in time to see the longshoreman, in a
moment of sober strength, ejecting with some violence a newcomer of
appearance more needy than himself. It was suggested to Jamie by this
that a similar but mutual exclusion might be effected, at least
against the weaker couple of the primal four; but there was an
honorable sense of property among these beggars, and they refused to
fail in respect for each other's vested rights. But Jamie was most
impatient of them, and would sometimes attempt to hold the
counting-room by fraudulent devices, even after the old gentleman
would get down town. It was after an attempt of this sort, ending in
something like a row between Jamie and his master, that the two
Bowdoins, father and son, stood now watching the clerk's progress up
the street. A touch of sulkiness, left by his late down-putting,
affected his gait, which was more crablike than usual.

"An invaluable fellow, after all," said Mr. Bowdoin; "a very Caleb."

"How Dickensy he is!" answered Mr. James, more familiar with the
recent light literature just appearing.

"A perfect bookkeeper! Not an error in twenty years!"

"Do you notice he's rather looking younger?"

"'Tis that little child he's adopted," said the old gentleman. "The
poor fellow's got something to love. All men need that--and even a few
women," he chuckled. Mr. Bowdoin was addicted to portentous cynicism
against the sex, which he wholly disbelieved in.

"The little child--yes," said Mr. James, more thoughtfully. "Do you
know