Psmith in the City

g much to do except enter and stamp letters, and, at intervals, take them down to the post of

and a life, in its way, of excitement. He gathered that he would not be free till five o'clock, and that on the following day he would come at ten and go at five, and the same every day, except Saturdays and Sundays, all the year round, with a ten days' holiday. The monotony of the

. It made him home-sick, conjuring up visions of shady gardens and country sounds and smells, and the silver Severn gleaming in the distance through the trees. About now, if he were not in this dismal place,

tes past Mike awoke from a day-dream to find Mr Wall

out this time, and Mr Rossiter, I know, does not go out till two. I thought perhaps th

of you,' said Mike.

volution. Mr Waller ordered lunch with the care of one to whom lunch is no slight matter. Few workers in the City do regard lunch as a trivial affair. It is the keynote of their day. It i

ed. Mike was content to listen. There was s

man is Bickersdy

when he was quite different. He and I were fellow clerks in Morton and Blatherwick's. He got on better than I did. A great fellow for getting on. They say he i

t they had been together in less prosperous days--or possibly because of it--were not on very good terms. Mr Bickersdyke was a man of strong pre

where they parted for their respective desks. Gratitude for any good turn done to him was a leading characteristic

k them off. The addresses continued to exercise a fascination for him. He was miles away from the office, speculating on what sort of

ooke

ed as ever, with his eye-glass fixed and

sta

r gloves, 'has claimed me for her own. Comrade of o

te neighbourhood, and Mr Rossiter buzzed out from his

rest, removing his eye-glass, polis

o be good enough to come in from your lunch at the proper tim

' sighed Psmith, '

apped Mr Rossiter

delighted,

,' said M

n Sieur de Psmith grew tired of work--a family failing, alas!--and settled down in this country to live peacefully for the remainder of his life o

r refused

ing here? What h

bank's chain; Psmith, the Worker. I shall not spare myself,' he proceeded earnestly. 'I shall toil with all the accumulated energy of one who, up till now, has only known what work is like from hearsay. Whose is that form sitting on the steps of the bank in the mornin

gan Mr R

ly and late till we boost up this Postage Department into a shining model of what a Postage Department should be. What that is, at present, I do not exactly know. However. Excursion trains will be run from distant shires to see this Postage Department. American visitors to London will do it before going on to the Tower. And now,' he broke

esk with a dazed expression, while Psmith, perched