He kept absolutely perfect time, year in and year
out. And so, when he came dashing into the bank on this particular
morning nearly forty minutes late, every man in the long counting-room
jerked out his watch and glanced at its face with an expression of
alarm in his eyes, absolutely convinced that he had made the heart-
breaking mistake of getting down to work forty minutes too soon. Such
a thing as Mr. Bingle getting down forty minutes too late was
infinitely more improbable than that all the rest of them should have
reported that much too early.
The tardy one was conscious of the concentrated stare of sixty eyes as
he slid onto the stool in front of his desk and began to fumble with
the pens and blotters. The man at his left elbow said "well, well!"
and the man at his right elbow said "st! st! st!" with his tongue in a
most reproachful manner. They could understand Mr. Bingle's absence
for three whole days, having got wind of a death in the family, but,
for the life of them, they couldn't see what he meant by spoiling a
perfectly clean record for punctuality when he might have remained
away for the entire day, just as well as not, instead of upsetting a
hallowed tradition in the bank by coming in forty minutes late.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85