patiently by the grey-bearded one, and not used as levers for boosting
him into the presence of Mr Bickersdyke, as they might have been in
some departments. The cashier seemed to have taken a fancy to Mike; and
Mike, as was usually the way with him when people went out of their way
to be friendly, was at his best. Mike at his ease and unsuspicious of
hostile intentions was a different person from Mike with his prickles
out.

Psmith, meanwhile, was not enjoying himself. It was an unheard-of
thing, he said, depriving a man of his confidential secretary without
so much as asking his leave.

'It has caused me the greatest inconvenience,' he told Mike, drifting
round in a melancholy way to the Cash Department during a slack spell
one afternoon. 'I miss you at every turn. Your keen intelligence and
ready sympathy were invaluable to me. Now where am I? In the cart. I
evolved a slightly bright thought on life just now. There was nobody to
tell it to except the new man. I told it him, and the fool gaped. I
tell you, Comrade Jackson, I feel like some lion that has been robbed
of its cub. I feel as Marshall would feel if they took Snelgrove away
from him, or as Peace might if he awoke one morning to find Plenty
gone. Comrade Rossiter does his best. We still talk brokenly about
Manchester United--they got routed in the first round of the Cup
yesterday and Comrade Rossiter is wearing black--but it is not the
same. I try work, but that is no good either. From ledger to ledger
they hurry me, to stifle my regret. And when they win a smile from me,
they think that I forget. But I don't. I am a broken man. That new
exhibit they've got in your place is about as near to the Extreme Edge
as anything I've ever seen. One of Nature's blighters. Well, well, I
must away. Comrade Rossiter awaits me.'