Chapter II
Reading edition
“Good morning, Mr. Phogie,” said Mr. Wyman, a liberal-minded merchant, as he entered the counting room of the former.
“Good morning, sir. Any thing new stirring?”
“No; I called to see you about a young man who has been in your employ; I mean Dixon.”
Phogie was all attention.
“I want a bookkeeper, and he has applied for the situation. How is he?”
Phogie did not very well like to say he was a competent man, honest, faithful, and zealous; he did not dare say he was any thing else; so he was compelled to compromise the matter for the moment by saying nothing.
“I was very much surprised to hear from him that he had left your service. Any thing unpleasant?”
“No.”
“Blot the books?”
“No.”
“Inaccurate?”
“No.”
“Off too much?”
“No; nothing of the kind.”
“But he was always considered one of the most promising young men on the street.”
“Yes.”
Wyman was perplexed by the taciturnity of the other.
“I don’t ask from idle curiosity; I want a bookkeeper.”
Phogie was dumb.
“Has the young man any fault?” and there were visible evidences of impatience in the tones and manner of the matter-of-fact merchant.
“Not that I know of.”
“O, you didn’t want him?”
“No—that is—yes—but——”
“Exactly so!” exclaimed Wyman, laughing.
Phogie laughed too; he could not help laughing when he saw what a figure he was making; besides, a laugh is sometimes a great relief to a man in a quandary.
“If you must know, Wyman, I’ll tell you. I gave him five hundred for the last year; he wants six for the next. I won’t give it.”
“No?”
“Yes; that is the whole story.”
“Wait a minute till I have secured him, and then I will talk with you;” and Wyman moved towards the door.
“Give him six hundred?” asked Phogie, not a little astonished to find his neighbor so eager to complete the engagement.
“Yes; seven if he demands it.”
“I can send you half a dozen in an hour who will engage for three.”
“Will you give bonds for their integrity and fidelity?” asked Wyman with a sneer.
“Pooh!”
“Pooh? The fact is, I have suffered enough from cheap clerks. Assure me that a young man is honest and true to my interest, and I never will let him leave me on account of any reasonable difference about salary. All that Solomon said about a virtuous woman I believe in, with regard to an honest and faithful clerk.”
“I can’t afford to pay these big salaries; and a young man gets above his business when you pay him too much.”
“Nonsense! He will respect himself, which every man must do in order to keep himself honest.”
“You are a transcendentalist.”
“I’m common sense. You say you cannot afford to pay high salaries. Can you afford to have a semi-annual deficit in your cash account of three hundred dollars, botched up with false entries, lying balances, and the like?”
Mr. Phogie had never been troubled in this way, and there was no probability that he ever should be; he looked out for his business himself, and he should like to see the clerk that could “bamboozle” him.
Mr. Wyman thought otherwise, and took his leave, wondering at the stupidity of his friend. It occurred to him, as he left the counting room, that it was not so very strange, after all, that clerks on three hundred a year can drive 2:40 horses and go to the opera three nights in a week; not very strange, either, that petty defalcations were discovered occasionally, and that young men on small salaries got ahead amazingly fast.