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Page 49
'You aren't going to--!'
'I shall do nothing rashly. I shall merely place this handsome volume
among my treasured books. I shall add it to my "Books that have helped
me" series. Because I fancy that, in an emergency, it may not be at all
a bad thing to have about me. And now,' he concluded, 'as the hour is
getting late, perhaps we had better be shoving off for home.'
19. The Illness of Edward
Life in a bank is at its pleasantest in the winter. When all the world
outside is dark and damp and cold, the light and warmth of the place
are comforting. There is a pleasant air of solidity about the interior
of a bank. The green shaded lamps look cosy. And, the outside world
offering so few attractions, the worker, perched on his stool, feels
that he is not so badly off after all. It is when the days are long and
the sun beats hot on the pavement, and everything shouts to him how
splendid it is out in the country, that he begins to grow restless.
Mike, except for a fortnight at the beginning of his career in the New
Asiatic Bank, had not had to stand the test of sunshine. At present,
the weather being cold and dismal, he was almost entirely contented.
Now that he had got into the swing of his work, the days passed very
quickly; and with his life after office-hours he had no fault to find
at all.
His life was very regular. He would arrive in the morning just in time
to sign his name in the attendance-book before it was removed to the
accountant's room. That was at ten o'clock. From ten to eleven he would
potter. There was nothing going on at that time in his department, and
Mr Waller seemed to take it for granted that he should stroll off to
the Postage Department and talk to Psmith, who had generally some fresh
grievance against the ring-wearing Bristow to air. From eleven to half
past twelve he would put in a little gentle work. Lunch, unless there
was a rush of business or Mr Waller happened to suffer from a spasm of
conscientiousness, could be spun out from half past twelve to two. More
work from two till half past three. From half past three till half past
four tea in the tearoom, with a novel. And from half past four till
five either a little more work or more pottering, according to whether
there was any work to do or not. It was by no means an unpleasant mode
of spending a late January day.
Then there was no doubt that it was an interesting little community,
that of the New Asiatic Bank. The curiously amateurish nature of the
institution lent a certain air of light-heartedness to the place. It
was not like one of those banks whose London office is their main
office, where stern business is everything and a man becomes a mere
machine for getting through a certain amount of routine work. The
employees of the New Asiatic Bank, having plenty of time on their
hands, were able to retain their individuality. They had leisure to
think of other things besides their work. Indeed, they had so much
leisure that it is a wonder they thought of their work at all.
The place was full of quaint characters. There was West, who had been
requested to leave Haileybury owing to his habit of borrowing horses
and attending meets in the neighbourhood, the same being always out of
bounds and necessitating a complete disregard of the rules respecting
evening chapel and lock-up. He was a small, dried-up youth, with black
hair plastered down on his head. He went about his duties in a costume
which suggested the sportsman of the comic papers.
There was also Hignett, who added to the meagre salary allowed him by
the bank by singing comic songs at the minor music halls. He confided
to Mike his intention of leaving the bank as soon as he had made a
name, and taking seriously to the business. He told him that he had
knocked them at the Bedford the week before, and in support of the
statement showed him a cutting from the Era, in which the writer said
that 'Other acceptable turns were the Bounding Zouaves, Steingruber's
Dogs, and Arthur Hignett.' Mike wished him luck.
And there was Raymond who dabbled in journalism and was the author of
'Straight Talks to Housewives' in _Trifles_, under the pseudonym
of 'Lady Gussie'; Wragge, who believed that the earth was flat, and
addressed meetings on the subject in Hyde Park on Sundays; and many
others, all interesting to talk to of a morning when work was slack and
time had to be filled in.
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