"Do you mean the office?" said George.

"Yes; what else should I mean?"

"It seems a comfortable office enough," said George, "and not
particularly dull; but I have not had sufficient experience in it to
judge."

"You see, that old ogre (I beg his pardon, I mean old Sanders) takes
jolly good care there shall be no flinching from work while he's there,
and it makes a fellow deuced tired, pegging away all day long."

"If this is a specimen of the clerks," thought George, "Uncle Brunton
was not far wrong when he said they were not a very good set."

"From what I have seen of Mr. Sanders," he said, "I think him a very
nice man! and as for work, I always thought that was what clerks were
engaged to do, and therefore it is their duty to do it, whether under
the eye of the manager or not."

George got this sentence out with some difficulty. He felt it was an
aggressive step, and did not doubt it would go the round of the office
as a tale against him.

"Ugh!" said the clerk; "you've got a thing or two to learn yet, I see.
You must surely be fresh and green from the country; but such notions
soon die out. I don't like to be personal though, so we'll change the
subject. Where are you going to dine? Most of our chaps patronize the
King's Head--first-rate place; get anything you like in two twinklings
of a lamb's tail. I'm going there now; will you go? By the way, I should