IN WHICH PHIL TAKES HIS PLACE AT THE DESK, AND IS ENGAGED FOR A YEAR.
When I reached the house of Mrs. Whippleton, I took my writing
materials from my bag, and wrote a long letter to my father, detailing
the incidents of my journey, and explaining the motives which had
induced me to take the situation in the counting-room of Collingsby and
Whippleton. I was satisfied that he would not object, though he might
not fully approve the course I had taken. I was up very early the next
morning, and made a hurried survey of the city before breakfast. I
walked from Washington Street, where my boarding-house was located,
through Halstead Street, to the north branch of the Chicago River,
where I found the lumber-yard of the firm. I read the sign and examined
the locality with interest.
I ate my breakfast at half past six; and though the beefsteak was very
tough, and the butter very strong, I sustained my reputation as a good
eater. I had lived too long in the wilderness, where we did not often
have any butter, to be thrown off my balance by the accident of a
rancid article, and I had certainly eaten buffalo meat that was as much
tougher than any beef as sole leather is tougher than brown paper.
Strong butter and tough beef are not good, I allow; but they are by no
means the sum total of human misery. I had a clean conscience, and I
ate a hearty breakfast.
I had been told to be at the counting-room at half past seven; but I
was on hand at seven. I saw several salesmen and laborers in the
lumberyard, but there was no one in the counting-room. I seated myself,
and picked up the morning paper. I did not find any paragraph
announcing my arrival at the great city of the west; and I suppose it
was of no great consequence. However, I found enough to interest me,
till I was disturbed by the entrance of a young man about my own age.
"Good morning, sir," said he, briskly, as he glanced curiously at me.
"What can I do for you?"
"Nothing," I replied.
"Didn't know but you had an order."
"No, I have no order."
He looked at me as though he thought I ought to tell him what I wanted.
"Can I sell you any lumber to-day?" he continued.
"I don't think you can. I'm waiting to see Mr. Whippleton," I answered,
in order to save him the trouble of any unnecessary questioning.
"If you are in a hurry you had better not wait, for he hardly ever gets
here till eight o'clock," said the young man, as he went to the desk
and opened an account book.
"I'm in no hurry. I'm going to work here."
"Is that so?"
"That's so."
"Who engaged you?"
"Mr. Whippleton--last evening."
"What are you going to do?"
"I am engaged as entry clerk."
"Good! I'm glad to hear it. I'm yours truly. Who are you?"
"I'm yours truly," I replied, laughing.
"You're a brick! My name is Land Limpedon. What's yours?"
"Philip Farringford."
"Capital! Philip Farringford, I'm deuced glad to see you if you are to
be the entry clerk. I've had to do some of that work, and I don't like
it. I don't think writing is my forte. I suppose you can write."
"I can make my mark."
"That's about all I can do. You have come at just the right time. We
are driven with business. By the way, you needn't wait for Mr.
Whippleton. I'll set you at work. I've just sold a bill, and want it
entered. Take your pen, old boy, and show us whether you can spatter
the ink or not. By the way, are you a hard brick or a soft brick?"
"I think you will find me a hard brick," I replied, at a venture, for I
had no idea of the technical significance of the terms he used.
"Capital! That's a Chicago brick. Did you come from the country?"
"I came from St. Louis."
"Capital, still! You don't smell of mullein and cornstalks. Here's a
good pen. Just enter these items, and give me a bill of them," he
rattled on, taking a memorandum book from his side pocket. "A Chicago
brick! That's the brick for me."
I took the pen, and stood at the desk.
"I can break you in before Whippleton gets here. Now, charge, F. P.
Moleuschott--got that down?"
"Yes."
"Capital! The point of your pen is greasy. But I'll bet a quarter you
didn't spell the man's name right," he added, looking at the page of
the sales book where I had entered it. "'Pon my word you did, though!
These Dutchmen's names bothered me so that I used to get almost choked
to death before I could speak one of them."
I had always been a diligent student of the literature of the
sign-boards, and I was tolerably familiar even with German proper
names. It is a good plan for a young man who is going into business to
read the signs in the streets as he passes along.
Mr. Land Limpedon rattled off a long bill of small items, and jumbled
in the technical terms of the trade, with the evident intention of
bothering me; but I was posted, and did not have to ask him to repeat a
single item. I entered the charge, and made out the bill.
"Capital!" exclaimed the young salesman, as he glanced at the bill. "I
couldn't have done it any better myself."
I was willing to believe him as I glanced at the page of the sales book
where he had made entries, and saw what a villanous hand he wrote, and
what blots and blunders he had inflicted upon the innocent white paper.
However, he was good-natured, and did not pretend to be a book-keeper;
so I was willing to forgive him.
"What time does Mr. Collingsby come to the counting-room?" I asked, as
he was looking over the bill.
"The young man comes about nine or ten; but he don't stay here much of
the time. Some days the old gentleman looks in about eleven, and some
days he don't," replied Land, as he left the office.
I was at the desk, and had made my first debit. The situation was
novel, but it was pleasing. It was DESK AND DEBIT, for which I had
been seeking for weeks.
The counting-room was divided into two apartments. In the first, which
occupied the front of the building, were the desk, the safe, the books,
and the papers. All the general business of the firm was transacted
here; and my position was behind the desk in this room. Separated from
it by a partition composed mostly of ground glass windows was the other
apartment, whose interior I had not yet seen. As Mr. Whippleton was the
bookkeeper, and had the general charge of the finances of the firm, I
concluded that the interior room was appropriated to the use of the
dignified senior partner and his father, the special partner, when the
latter chose to honor the establishment with his presence.
While I was taking a deliberate survey of the premises where I was to
pass at least several weeks, two salesmen, with their memoranda in
their hands, bustled into the counting-room, each attended by a
customer, to whom he had sold a bill of lumber. They had been informed
by Land of the debut of the new entry clerk, and they read off their
sales to me, which I entered upon the book, giving them bills for the
purchasers. One of them paid his bill, and I was looking for the cash
book when Mr. Whippleton made his appearance.
"So you are really at work, Philip," said he, as he glanced at the
sales book.
"Yes, sir; I have made a beginning. I was looking for the cash book,
sir."
"I keep the cash book myself," added he, in a manner which indicated
that I was not to meddle with it.
But I found enough to do in making bills and charges. It was early in
the spring, and there was a great deal of building in the city.
Business was very driving, and I had all I could do. It was the same
thing over and over again all day long; but I enjoyed my occupation in
spite of its monotony.
About nine o'clock Mr. Richard Collingsby entered the counting-room. He
passed my desk, glanced at me, and entered the sacred precincts of his
sanctorum. Mr. Whippleton immediately made him a visit, and doubtless
informed his senior that he had engaged an entry clerk. I did not see
the dignified partner again till he left the counting-room at two
o'clock. He did not even glance at me this time, and probably had no
suspicion that he had ever seen me before. I was too insignificant a
mortal to engage his attention even for a single instant. Yet he was my
own uncle, though I might be in the same office with him for years
without his knowing the fact.
At twelve o'clock I went to dinner. As I passed through the yard, I saw
lying on the bank of the river a beautiful sail-boat, which attracted
my attention. It was about thirty feet long, and had quite a large
cabin in the forward part. I had hardly ever seen a sail-boat, and I
was much interested in her.
"Whose is this?" I asked, as Land Limpedon joined me on his way to
dinner.
"Mr. Whippleton's; he's a regular water bird, and in the summer he
spends all his spare time in that boat."
"Does he sail on this river?" I asked, glancing at the muddy lagoon.
"No; he takes her out on the lake, and goes off for a fortnight in her,
when he can spare the time."
I had had some experience with boats on the upper Missouri, and had
some taste for them, though I had never even been in a sail-boat. I
hoped Mr. Whippleton would take it into his head to invite me some time
to sail with him. I went to dinner with the image of the boat's sharp
bow and graceful lines lingering in my mind. The beef was no tougher at
noon than it was in the morning, and I think Mrs. Whippleton was
convinced that I was not a profitable boarder at four dollars a week.
But I do not intend to weary my reader by giving the monotonous details
of my daily experience at the desk. I discharged my duties faithfully,
and to the entire satisfaction of Mr. Whippleton. On the second day, I
saw Mr. Collingsby, senior. Like his dignified son, he took no notice
of me. Possibly he asked my name in the private office; but I never
knew whether it gave them any uneasiness or not, though I am very
confident neither of them suspected that I was the son of Louise
Collingsby. The name was not so uncommon as to indicate that I belonged
to the hated Farringfords of St. Louis.
Whatever may have been said in the private office, nothing came to me
from either of the men in whom I was so deeply interested; and it often
occurred to me, as the weeks passed by, that I was doing nothing to
accomplish my great mission in Chicago. My father answered my letter,
and advised me, if I had a good place, to keep it. I wrote to him every
week, and received a letter from him as often.
The eight weeks for which I had been engaged passed off, and I hinted
to the junior partner that my time was out.
"Very well; you can go on just as you have," said he.
"I don't care about going on any farther at six dollars a week," I
replied.
"What do you want?"
"Eight, sir."
"I will speak to Mr. Collingsby."
He did speak to him, and my salary was advanced to eight dollars a week
for a year. I was satisfied I was earning that amount, and Mr.
Whippleton intimated that he should require me to do more of the
general book-keeping.