Athelny told Philip that he could easily get him something to do in the
large firm of linendrapers in which himself worked. Several of the
assistants had gone to the war, and Lynn and Sedley with patriotic zeal
had promised to keep their places open for them. They put the work of
the heroes on those who remained, and since they did not increase the
wages of these were able at once to exhibit public spirit and effect an
economy; but the war continued and trade was less depressed; the
holidays were coming, when numbers of the staff went away for a
fortnight at a time: they were bound to engage more assistants.
Philip’s experience had made him doubtful whether even then they would
engage him; but Athelny, representing himself as a person of
consequence in the firm, insisted that the manager could refuse him
nothing. Philip, with his training in Paris, would be very useful; it
was only a matter of waiting a little and he was bound to get a
well-paid job to design costumes and draw posters. Philip made a poster
for the summer sale and Athelny took it away. Two days later he brought
it back, saying that the manager admired it very much and regretted
with all his heart that there was no vacancy just then in that
department. Philip asked whether there was nothing else he could do.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Are you quite sure?”
“Well, the fact is they’re advertising for a shop-walker tomorrow,”
said Athelny, looking at him doubtfully through his glasses.
“D’you think I stand any chance of getting it?”
Athelny was a little confused; he had led Philip to expect something
much more splendid; on the other hand he was too poor to go on
providing him indefinitely with board and lodging.
“You might take it while you wait for something better. You always
stand a better chance if you’re engaged by the firm already.”
“I’m not proud, you know,” smiled Philip.
“If you decide on that you must be there at a quarter to nine tomorrow
morning.”
Notwithstanding the war there was evidently much difficulty in finding
work, for when Philip went to the shop many men were waiting already.
He recognised some whom he had seen in his own searching, and there was
one whom he had noticed lying about the park in the afternoon. To
Philip now that suggested that he was as homeless as himself and passed
the night out of doors. The men were of all sorts, old and young, tall
and short; but every one had tried to make himself smart for the
interview with the manager: they had carefully brushed hair and
scrupulously clean hands. They waited in a passage which Philip learnt
afterwards led up to the dining-hall and the work rooms; it was broken
every few yards by five or six steps. Though there was electric light
in the shop here was only gas, with wire cages over it for protection,
and it flared noisily. Philip arrived punctually, but it was nearly ten
o’clock when he was admitted into the office. It was three-cornered,
like a cut of cheese lying on its side: on the walls were pictures of
women in corsets, and two poster-proofs, one of a man in pyjamas, green
and white in large stripes, and the other of a ship in full sail
ploughing an azure sea: on the sail was printed in large letters ‘great
white sale.’ The widest side of the office was the back of one of the
shop-windows, which was being dressed at the time, and an assistant
went to and fro during the interview. The manager was reading a letter.
He was a florid man, with sandy hair and a large sandy moustache; from
the middle of his watch-chain hung a bunch of football medals. He sat
in his shirt sleeves at a large desk with a telephone by his side;
before him were the day’s advertisements, Athelny’s work, and cuttings
from newspapers pasted on a card. He gave Philip a glance but did not
speak to him; he dictated a letter to the typist, a girl who sat at a
small table in one corner; then he asked Philip his name, age, and what
experience he had had. He spoke with a cockney twang in a high,
metallic voice which he seemed not able always to control; Philip
noticed that his upper teeth were large and protruding; they gave you
the impression that they were loose and would come out if you gave them
a sharp tug.
“I think Mr. Athelny has spoken to you about me,” said Philip.
“Oh, you are the young feller who did that poster?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No good to us, you know, not a bit of good.”
He looked Philip up and down. He seemed to notice that Philip was in
some way different from the men who had preceded him.
“You’d ’ave to get a frock coat, you know. I suppose you ’aven’t got
one. You seem a respectable young feller. I suppose you found art
didn’t pay.”
Philip could not tell whether he meant to engage him or not. He threw
remarks at him in a hostile way.
“Where’s your home?”
“My father and mother died when I was a child.”
“I like to give young fellers a chance. Many’s the one I’ve given their
chance to and they’re managers of departments now. And they’re grateful
to me, I’ll say that for them. They know what I done for them. Start at
the bottom of the ladder, that’s the only way to learn the business,
and then if you stick to it there’s no knowing what it can lead to. If
you suit, one of these days you may find yourself in a position like
what mine is. Bear that in mind, young feller.”
“I’m very anxious to do my best, sir,” said Philip.
He knew that he must put in the sir whenever he could, but it sounded
odd to him, and he was afraid of overdoing it. The manager liked
talking. It gave him a happy consciousness of his own importance, and
he did not give Philip his decision till he had used a great many
words.
“Well, I daresay you’ll do,” he said at last, in a pompous way. “Anyhow
I don’t mind giving you a trial.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“You can start at once. I’ll give you six shillings a week and your
keep. Everything found, you know; the six shillings is only pocket
money, to do what you like with, paid monthly. Start on Monday. I
suppose you’ve got no cause of complaint with that.”
“No, sir.”
“Harrington Street, d’you know where that is, Shaftesbury Avenue.
That’s where you sleep. Number ten, it is. You can sleep there on
Sunday night, if you like; that’s just as you please, or you can send
your box there on Monday.” The manager nodded: “Good-morning.”