Reginald Cruden Part 21

"Eighteen shillings; that's very little, very poor pay," said he. "I should have thought, with your education, you could have got more than that."

It pleased Reginald to have his education recognised in this delicate way.

"We had to be thankful for what we could get," said he; "there are so many fellows out of work."

"Very true, very true," said Mr Medlock, shaking his head impressively, "we had no less than 450 replies to our advertis.e.m.e.nt."

Reginald gave a gasp. What chance had he among 450 compet.i.tors?

Mr Medlock took a turn or two up and down the room, meditating with himself and keeping his eye all the time on the boy.

"Yes," said he, "450--a lot, isn't it? Very sad to think of it."

"Very sad," said Reginald, feeling called upon to say something.

"Now," said Mr Medlock, coming to a halt in his walk in front of the boy, "I suppose you guess I wouldn't have asked you to call here if I and my fellow-directors hadn't been pleased with your letter."

Reginald looked pleased and said nothing.

"And now I've seen you and heard what you've got to say, I think you're not a bad young fellow; but--"

Mr Medlock paused, and Reginald's face changed to one of keen anxiety.

"I'm afraid, Mr Cruden, you're not altogether the sort we want."

The boy's face fell sadly.

"I would do my best," he said, as bravely as he could, "if you'd try me.

I don't know what the work is yet, but I'm ready to do anything I can."

"Humph!" said Mr Medlock. "What we advertise for is sharp agents, to sell goods on commission among their friends. Now, do you think you could sell 500 worth of wine and cigars and that sort of thing every year among your friends? You'd need to do that to make 50 a year, you know. You understand? Could you go round to your old neighbours and crack up our goods, and book their orders and that sort of thing? I don't think you could, myself. It strikes me you are too much of a gentleman."

Reginald sat silent for a moment, with the colour coming and going in his cheeks; then he looked up and said, slowly--

"I'm afraid I could not do that, sir--I didn't know you wanted that."

So saying he took up his hat and rose to go.

Mr Medlock watched him with a smile, if not of sympathy, at any rate of approval, and when he rose motioned him back to his seat.

"Not so fast, my man; I like your spirit, and we may hit it yet."

Reginald resumed his seat with a new interest in his anxious face.

"You wouldn't suit us as a drummer--that is," said Mr Medlock, hastily correcting himself, "as a tout--an agent; but you might suit us in another way. We're looking out for a gentlemanly young fellow for secretary--to superintend the concern for the directors, and be the medium of communication between them and the agents. We want an educated young man, and one we can depend upon. As to the work, that's picked up in a week easily. Now, suppose--suppose when I go back to Liverpool I were to recommend you for a post like that, what would you say?"

Reginald was almost too overwhelmed for words; he could only stammer,--

"Oh, sir, how kind of you!"

"The directors would appoint any one I recommended," continued Mr Medlock, looking down with satisfaction on the boy's eagerness; "you're young, of course, but you seem to be honest, that's the great thing."

"I think I can promise that," said Reginald, proudly.

"The salary would begin at 150 a year, but we should improve it if you turned out well. And you would, of course, occupy the Company's house at Liverpool. We should not ask for a premium in your case, but you would have to put 50 into the shares of the Corporation to qualify you, and of course you would get interest on that. Now," said he, as Reginald began to speak, "don't be in a hurry. Take your time and think it well over. If you say 'Yes,' you may consider the thing settled, and if you say 'No'--well, we shall be able to find some one else. Ah, here comes lunch--stop and have some with me--bring another plate, waiter."

Reginald felt too bewildered to know what to think or say. He a secretary of a company with 150 a year! It was nearly intoxicating.

And for the post spontaneously offered to him in the almost flattering way it had been--this was more gratifying still. In his wildest dreams just now he never pictured himself sitting down as secretary to the Select Agency Corporation to lunch with one of its leading directors!

Mr Medlock said no more about "business", but made himself generally agreeable, asking Reginald about his father and the old days, inquiring as to his mother and brother, and all about his friends and acquaintances in London.

Reginald felt he could talk freely to this friend, and he did so. He confided to him all about Mr Durfy's tyranny, about his brother's work at the _Rocket_, and even went so far as to drop out a hint in young Gedge's favour. He told him all about Wilderham and his schoolfellows there, about the books he liked, about the way he spent his evenings, about Dull Street--in fact, he felt as if he had known Mr Medlock for years and could talk to him accordingly.

"I declare," said that gentleman, pulling out his watch, after this pleasant talk had been going on a long time, "it's five minutes past two. I'm afraid you'll be late."

Reginald started up.

"So I shall, I'd no idea it was so late. I'm afraid I had better go, sir."

"Well, write me a letter to Liverpool to-morrow, or Wednesday at the latest, as we must fill up the place soon. Think it well over. Good- bye, my man. I hope I shall see you again before long. By the way, of course, you won't talk about all this out of doors."

"Oh, no," said Reginald, "I haven't even mentioned it yet at home."

Mr Medlock laughed.

"Well, if you come to Liverpool you'll have to tell them something about it. See, here's a list of our directors, your mother may recognise some of the names. But beyond your mother and brother don't talk about it yet, as the Corporation is only just starting."

Reginald heartily concurred in this caution, and promised to act on it, and then after a friendly farewell hastened back to the _Rocket_ office.

The clock pointed nearly a quarter past two when he entered.

He was not the sort of fellow to slink in when no one was looking. In fact, he had such a detestation of that sort of thing that he went to the other extreme, and marched ostentatiously past Mr Durfy's table, as though to challenge his observation.

If that was his intention he was not disappointed.

"Oh," said the overseer, with a return of the old sneer, which had been dormant ever since the night Reginald had knocked him down. "You _have_ come, have you? And you know the hour, do you?"

"Yes, it's a quarter past two," said Reginald.

"Is it?" sneered Mr Durfy, in his most offensive way.

"Yes, it is," replied the boy, hotly.

What did he care for Durfy now? To-morrow in all probability he would have the satisfaction of walking up to that table and saying, "Mr Durfy, I leave here on Sat.u.r.day," meanwhile he was not disposed to stand any of his insolence.

But he hardly expected what was coming next.

"Very well, then you can just put your hat on your head and go back the way you came, sir."

"What do you mean?" said Reginald, in startled tones.