'Oh, Mr Bickersdyke,' said Psmith.

The manager stopped.

'Father sent his kind regards to you,' said Psmith benevolently.

Mr Bickersdyke walked off without comment.

'An uncommonly cheery, companionable feller,' murmured Psmith, as he
turned to his work.


The first day anywhere, if one spends it in a sedentary fashion, always
seemed unending; and Mike felt as if he had been sitting at his desk
for weeks when the hour for departure came. A bank's day ends
gradually, reluctantly, as it were. At about five there is a sort of
stir, not unlike the stir in a theatre when the curtain is on the point
of falling. Ledgers are closed with a bang. Men stand about and talk
for a moment or two before going to the basement for their hats and
coats. Then, at irregular intervals, forms pass down the central aisle
and out through the swing doors. There is an air of relaxation over the
place, though some departments are still working as hard as ever under
a blaze of electric light. Somebody begins to sing, and an instant
chorus of protests and maledictions rises from all sides. Gradually,
however, the electric lights go out. The procession down the centre
aisle becomes more regular; and eventually the place is left to
darkness and the night watchman.

The postage department was one of the last to be freed from duty. This