black velvet embroidered with red and green, opening letters. He waited
and waited. One of the junior clerks went to the old man, greeted him
cheerily and loudly. Evidently the old "chief" was deaf. Then the young
fellow came striding importantly down to his counter. He spied Paul.
"Hello!" he said. "You the new lad?"
"Yes," said Paul.
"H'm! What's your name?"
"Paul Morel."
"Paul Morel? All right, you come on round here."
Paul followed him round the rectangle of counters. The room was second
storey. It had a great hole in the middle of the floor, fenced as with a
wall of counters, and down this wide shaft the lifts went, and the light
for the bottom storey. Also there was a corresponding big, oblong hole
in the ceiling, and one could see above, over the fence of the top
floor, some machinery; and right away overhead was the glass roof, and
all light for the three storeys came downwards, getting dimmer, so that
it was always night on the ground floor and rather gloomy on the second
floor. The factory was the top floor, the warehouse the second, the
storehouse the ground floor. It was an insanitary, ancient place.
Paul was led round to a very dark corner.
"This is the 'Spiral' corner," said the clerk. "You're Spiral, with
Pappleworth. He's your boss, but he's not come yet. He doesn't get here
till half-past eight. So you can fetch the letters, if you like, from
Mr. Melling down there."
The young man pointed to the old clerk in the office.
"All right," said Paul.
"Here's a peg to hang your cap on. Here are your entry ledgers. Mr.
Pappleworth won't be long."
And the thin young man stalked away with long, busy strides over the
hollow wooden floor.
After a minute or two Paul went down and stood in the door of the glass
office. The old clerk in the smoking-cap looked down over the rim of his
spectacles.
"Good-morning," he said, kindly and impressively. "You want the letters
for the Spiral department, Thomas?"
Paul resented being called "Thomas". But he took the letters and
returned to his dark place, where the counter made an angle, where the
great parcel-rack came to an end, and where there were three doors in
the corner. He sat on a high stool and read the letters--those whose
handwriting was not too difficult. They ran as follows:
"Will you please send me at once a pair of lady's silk spiral
thigh-hose, without feet, such as I had from you last year; length,
thigh to knee, etc." Or, "Major Chamberlain wishes to repeat his
previous order for a silk non-elastic suspensory bandage."
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