Psmith in the City by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 29 of 215 (13%)
page 29 of 215 (13%)
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big screw and a dozen native Johnnies under you. Bit of all right,
that. I shan't get my orders for another two and a half years and more, worse luck. Still, it's something to look forward to.' 'Who's Rossiter?' asked Mike. 'The head of the postage department. Fussy little brute. Won't leave you alone. Always trying to catch you on the hop. There's one thing, though. The work in the postage is pretty simple. You can't make many mistakes, if you're careful. It's mostly entering letters and stamping them.' They turned in at the door in the counter, and arrived at a desk which ran parallel to the gangway. There was a high rack running along it, on which were several ledgers. Tall, green-shaded electric lamps gave it rather a cosy look. As they reached the desk, a little man with short, black whiskers buzzed out from behind a glass screen, where there was another desk. 'Where have you been, Bannister, where have you been? You must not leave your work in this way. There are several letters waiting to be entered. Where have you been?' 'Mr Bickersdyke sent for me,' said Bannister, with the calm triumph of one who trumps an ace. 'Oh! Ah! Oh! Yes, very well. I see. But get to work, get to work. Who is this?' |
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