how much it cost me for my washing. They were a very cheap set, had
black finger-nails, and stuck their pens behind their ears. One of
them always brought a black-varnished canvas bag with him, not
respectably stiff like leather--a puckered, dejected-looking bag.
It was deposited in the washing place to be out of the way of the
sun. At one o'clock it was brought out and emptied of its contents,
which were usually a cold chop and a piece of bread. A plate, knife
and fork, and some pepper and salt were produced from the desk, and
after the meat, which could be cut off from the chop, was devoured,
the bone was gnawed, wrapped up in paper, and put back in the bag.
The plate, knife, and fork were washed in the wash-hand basin and
wiped with the office jack-towel. It was hard when old business
friends called and I had to knock at the inner door and say, 'Mr. --
- wants to see you, sir,' the object of the visit not being
entrusted to me. A few of them behaved politely to me, but to
others it seemed to be a pleasure to humble me. On that very first
Monday, Bullock, the junior in Wiggens, Moggs, and Bullock, burst
into the room. He knew me very well, but took no notice of me,
although I was alone, except to ask -

'Is Mr. Jackman in?'

'No, sir, can I do anything for you?'

He did not deign to say a word, but went out, slamming the door
behind him.

Nevertheless I kept up my spirits, or rather they kept themselves
up. At five o'clock, when the scramble to get the letters signed
began, I thought of our street at home, so dull at that hour, of the