“One of the floorwalkers--died of heat prostration,” she said, looking very much upset.
“Poor fellow,” said Gissing. “You never know what will happen next, do you?” He walked away, shaking his head.
He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the firm. On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom suites, a rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him inquiringly.
“Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?”
Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. “Mr. Beagle junior,” he stated firmly.
She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. “This way, please,” she said.
Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they pay a junior partner?
He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so inquiringly. But he caught himself in time.
“I beg your pardon for intruding,” said Gissing, “but I am the new floorwalker.”
“You are very kind,” said Mr. Beagle junior, “but we do not need a new floorwalker.”
“I beg your pardon again,” said Gissing, “but you are not au courant with the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the silk-stocking counter. Very bad for business.”
At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He listened, sharply examining his caller meanwhile.
“You are right,” he said, as he put down the receiver. “Well, sir, have you had any experience?”
“Not exactly of that sort,” said Gissing; “but I think I understand the requirements. The tone of the store--”
“I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon,” said Mr. Beagle. “We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for that position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some importance. The floorwalker is our point of social contact with patrons.”
Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief.
“Pray do not apologize,” he said kindly. “I am willing to congratulate with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the store. To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think you will find--”