"
"Whom do you dictate your letters to?" Sarah demanded.
"To tell you the truth," Jimmy answered, falling on his cocktail, "I
haven't had any to write yet."
"What has your work been?" Lady Amesbury asked.
"Kind of superintending," the young man explained, "looking on at
everything--getting the hang of it, you know."
"Are the other men there nice?" Sarah enquired.
"Well, we don't seem to have had much time for conversation yet," Jimmy
replied, attacking his caviar like a man anxious to make up for lost
time. "I heard one chap tell another that I'd come to give tone to the
establishment, which seemed to me a pleasant and friendly way of
looking at it."
"You didn't have any commissions yourself?" Sarah went on.
"Well, not exactly," Jimmy confessed. "About half an hour before I
left, a lunatic with perspiration streaming down his face, and no hat,
threw himself into my room. 'I'll buy B. & I.'s,' he shouted. 'I'll buy
B. & I.'s!'"
"What did you do?" Wingate enquired with interest.
"I told him I hadn't got any," was the injured reply. "He went cut like a
streak of damp lightning. I heard him kicking up an awful hullaballoo in
the next office."
"Jimmy," Sarah said reproachfully, "that might have been your first
client. You ought to have made a business of finding him some B. & I.'s."
"There might have been some in a drawer or somewhere," Lady Amesbury
suggested.
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