Eh?"
Dobbs looked at his patron with a certain wistful, dog-like expectancy,
moved himself excitedly on his chair seat in a peculiar canine-like
anticipation of gratitude, strongly suggesting that he would have wagged
his tail if he had one. At which Mr. Gashwiler became more impressive.
"Indeed, I may say I anticipated it by certain papers I have put in
your charge and in your name, only taking from you a transfer that might
enable me to satisfy my conscience hereafter in recommending you as
my--ahem!--private secretary. Perhaps, as a mere form, you might now,
while you are here, put your name to these transfers, and, so to speak,
begin your duties at once."
The glow of pride and hope that mantled the cheek of poor Dobbs might
have melted a harder heart than Gashwiler's. But the senatorial toga
had invested Mr. Gashwiler with a more than Roman stoicism towards the
feelings of others, and he only fell back in his chair in the pose of
conscious rectitude as Dobbs hurriedly signed the paper.
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