Page 165 - sons-and-lovers

was another longer room, with six more machines. A little
group of girls, nicely dressed in white aprons, stood talking
together.
‘Have you nothing else to do but talk?’ said Mr. Papple-
worth.
‘Only wait for you,’ said one handsome girl, laughing.
‘Well, get on, get on,’ he said. ‘Come on, my lad. You’ll
know your road down here again.’
And Paul ran upstairs after his chief. He was given some
checking and invoicing to do. He stood at the desk, labour-
ing in his execrable handwriting. Presently Mr. Jordan came
strutting down from the glass office and stood behind him,
to the boy’s great discomfort. Suddenly a red and fat finger
was thrust on the form he was filling in.
‘MR. J. A. Bates, Esquire!’ exclaimed the cross voice just
behind his ear.
Paul looked at ‘Mr. J. A. Bates, Esquire’ in his own vile
writing, and wondered what was the matter now.
‘Didn’t they teach you any better THAN that while they
were at it? If you put ‘Mr.’ you don’t put Esquire’-a man can’t
be both at once.’
The boy regretted his too-much generosity in disposing
of honours, hesitated, and with trembling fingers, scratched
out the ‘Mr.’ Then all at once Mr. Jordan snatched away the
invoice.
‘Make another! Are you going to send that to a gentle-
man?’ And he tore up the blue form irritably.
Paul, his ears red with shame, began again. Still Mr. Jor-
dan watched.

1 Sons and Lovers