Psmith in the City

emed to look at him. He was permitted to alight at St Paul's and make his way up Queen Victoria Street without any demonstration. He followe

in an apparently irresolute manner. Nobody seemed actually to be working. As a matter of fact, the business of a bank does not start very early in the morning. Mike had arrived before things had really begun to move. As he stood near the doorway, one or two panting figures rushed up the steps, and flung themselves at a large book which

es could be seen, seated on stools and writing hieroglyphics in large letters. A benevolent-looking man, with spectacles a

d at him with a pair of mild blue eyes. 'I think, perhaps, that your best plan would be to see the manager,' he said. 'Ye

perience of London, it was a pleasant change to find someone who really se

e to you, perhap

cks

n still recall my first day. But one shakes down. One shakes down quite qui

wfully,'

o bestow a mild smile of encouragement on the new arrival. There was something about Mr Wal

the managerial d

e continued to write all the time he was in the room. Conversation between other people in

und. Mike had thought, as he looked at his back and heard his voice, that something about his appearance or his

place, would have opened the conversation, and relaxed the tension with some remark on th

, he gave no sign of having already had the pleasure of making Mike's acquaintance. He mere

nged for the performer. It was all very well for Mr Bickersdyke. He had been 'discovered sitting'. But Mike ha

e felt that even as he said it. It was the sort of thing Mephistopheles would have said to Faust by

Bickersdyke did not start up and shout, 'This language to me!'

ng, this assumption on Mr Bickersdyke

es. You have jo

ition. He seemed to see the bank's directors being reassured by the chairman. ('I am happy to say, gentlemen, that our profits for the past year are 3,000,006-2-2 1/2 pounds--(cheer

' he

g up a pen, began to write. Of Mike he took no further notice, le

e had seen hanging about the gangway, and whom he afterward

er to step this

door opened again to admit a shock-headed you

ur place in the postage department. You will go into the cash d

the other side of the door the sh

t him. I pity you going into the postage. There's one thing, though. If you can stick it for about a month, you'll get through all right. Men are always leaving for the East, and then you get shunted on into another department, and the next new man goes into the postage. That's the best of this place. It's not like one of those banks where you stay in London all yo

ssiter?'

o catch you on the hop. There's one thing, though. The work in the postage is pretty simple. Yo

rallel to the gangway. There was a high rack running along it, on which were

short, black whiskers buzzed out from behind

ou must not leave your work in this way. There are seve

aid Bannister, with the calm tr

l. I see. But get to work,

taking my place. I've b

Smith?' asked Mr Ros

im as a curious coincidence that he should be asked if his na

Mr Bickersdyke knows we are short-handed in this department. But, come along, Bannister

grinned at Mike. He was a cheerful y

ou may as well enter them. It all looks like work. But you'll find the best way is to wait till you get a couple of dozen or so, and then work them off in a batch. But if you see Rossiter about, then start stamping something or writing something, or he'll run you in for neglecting your job. He's a nut. I'm joll