I was in the act of opening the swing-door stealthily, and was half
through when I saw that Mr Dempster was acting precisely in the same
way, stealing through the inner doorway, and making me a sign to stop.
I obeyed, shivering a little at what was to come, and wishing that I had
the courage to utter a word of warning. For there was Esau with his
head hanging down over the catalogue he was copying out, fast asleep,
the sun playing amongst his fair curls, and a curious guttural noise
coming from his nose.
It was that sound, I felt, which had brought Mr Dempster out with his
lips drawn back in an ugly grin, and a malicious look in his eyes as he
stepped forward on tiptoe, placed both his hands together on my
fellow-clerk's curly head, and pressed it down with a sudden heavy bang
on the desk.
Something sounded very hollow. Perhaps it was the desk. Then there was
a sudden bound, and Esau was standing on the floor, gazing wildly at our
employer.
"You lazy idiotic lump of opium," roared the latter. "That's the way my
work's done, is it?"
As our employer uttered these words he made at Esau, following up and
cuffing him first on one side of the head and then on the other, while
the lad, who seemed utterly confused with sleep, and the stunning
contact of his brow against the desk, backed away round the office,
beginning then to put up his arms to defend himself.
"Here," he cried, "don't you hit me--don't you hit me."
"Hit you!--you stupid, thick-headed, drowsy oaf! I'll knock some sense
into you. Nice pair, upon my word! And you--you scoundrel," he cried,
turning on me, "where have you been?"
"Only--only just outside, sir," I stammered, as I felt my cheeks flush.
"I'll only just outside you," he roared, catching me by the collar and
shaking me. "This is the way my work is done, is it? You're always
late of a morning--"
"No, sir," I cried, indignantly.
"Silence!--And always the first to rush off before your work's done; and
as soon as my back's turned, you're off to play with the boys in the
street. Where have you been?"