a pity you won't speak up."
"So I do."
"They'll never call you leather-lungs."
"Oh Joe, Joe! you'll be the death of me. You're a duffer, and it is no use saying you're not. I was going to tell you I'd got a berth for you, but I'm afraid you could not keep it."
"What is it?"
"Clerk in the office of my old friend, Mr. Maybrick, the stockbroker."
"Eh!" said Joseph. "What's a mockstoker?"
"A stockbroker," shouted Mr. Loyd.
"Why didn't you say so at first. Do you think I don't know what that is? I'm not quite such a fool as that comes to."
"You'd aggravate a saint, Joe."
"Paint your toe! Have you gone mad?"
"Great heavens! I shall hit you; get out," shrieked his father.
"Got the gout. Oh! that's another thing. I thought you'd have it. You drink too much port after dinner."
"I say, Joe," cried Mr. Loyd, "are you doing this on purpose? You don't understand a word I say; in fact, you misconstrue everything."
"If that is so I can't help it."
"You're getting worse."
"Don't do that," replied Joe gravely.
"Eh?"
"Don't curse me. If I am deaf, that is to say slightly deaf, it is my misfortune, not my fault; you ought to make allowance for me, and speak louder."
"Do you want me to be a foghorn, or a river steam tug?"
"Certainly not."
"Or a cavalry man's trumpet, or a bellowing bull?"
"No, father."
"Or," continued Mr. Loyd with rising temper, "a spouting whale, an Old Bailey barrister, a town-crier, a grampus, a locomotive blowing off steam, an Australian bell-bird, or a laughing jackass?"
"I'm sure I never laugh, so you needn't fling that at me."
"I wish you were dumb as well as deaf," groaned Mr. Loyd.
"Why?"
"Because I might then get you into the asylum."
"File 'em," muttered Joseph. "He's still thinking of the bills."
"Confound him," muttered his father. "He's worse than a county court judgment. I don't know what to do with him."
To soothe his nerves he lighted a cigar, and looking in the fire puffed away at the weed, while Joe again took up the paper and went on reading.
Half-an-hour passed.
Then Mr. Loyd said, "You know you're getting worse, but you're so obstinate you won't admit it, and it's six to four you'll not yield."
Joseph looked up with irritating calmness.
"No, thanks," he exclaimed.
"What do you mean?"
"I never bet."
"Who talked about betting?" yelled his father.
"You offered six to four on the field, and——"
"I didn't. Yah!"
"Never mind; I sha'n't take you," replied Joseph.
Mr. Loyd got up and did a war dance.
"Who asked you to?"
"You did. It only wants six weeks to the Derby, and——"
Mr. Loyd lost all control over himself for the moment. He took up the coal-scuttle and threw it at his son, which was a very reprehensible thing to do; but it did not hurt Joseph, for that intelligent youth saw it coming, and ducking his head, it went with a crash through the window into the street.
"That's a clever thing to do," said Joseph, without so much as winking. "You need not get mad because I won't bet."
His father shook his fist at him.
"You'll be my death," he replied, sinking into a chair with a gasp.
"I can't help it if I am deaf," rejoined the imperturbable Joseph.
"You're sharper than a serpent's tooth."
"It wasn't very sharp of you to break the window."
"Go to Putney!"
"Where am I to get putty?" said Joseph. "Send for a glazier."
"Bless us and save us!" groaned Mr. Loyd.
"There isn't much saving in having a broken window to catch cold by."
Mr. Loyd rushed into the hall, and taking down his hat and coat from the rack, put them on.
"Come up to town at once," he exclaimed; "we'll go and see Mr. Maybrick."
"What's the good of a hayrick?" asked Joseph simply.
"Eh?"
"You can't stop a hole in a window with a hayrick."
"I said Maybrick, the broker," roared Mr. Loyd, putting his hands to his mouth.
"I do wish you'd speak out."
"Get a trumpet. Yah!"
"Trump it! we're not playing whist."
"Oh dear!" sighed Mr. Loyd. "He must be apprenticed to Maybrick. I'll pay a premium if it's a hundred pounds. I'm not a hog, and don't want to enjoy this all by myself. I'll share it with another. It's too much for one to struggle with. I can't undertake the worry single-handed, it's too much."
He had to go close up to Joseph and bawl in his ear to make him understand what he wanted, for he had never found his son's deafness so bad as it was that day.
Joseph was quite willing to go, and quitting the house, they took the train and went to town together.
It was yet early in the day, and they reached the broker's office about twelve, finding him in and at leisure. During the journey, Mr. Loyd had impressed upon Joseph the necessity of keeping his ears open as well as he could, for if he made any mistakes he would soon get "chucked," as they say in the City, and Joe promised to be as wideawake as his infirmity would permit him.
How wideawake this was, we shall see.
Mr. Maybrick had done business with Mr. Loyd for many years, and received him in his private office with all the cordiality of an old friend.
"Brought my boy to introduce to you," exclaimed the retired grocer.
"Very glad to know the young gentleman," replied Mr. Maybrick; "take a chair. Have a cigar. Quite a chip of the old block, I see; what's his name?"
"Joseph. Joe for short."
"Very good; now what can I do for you, are you going to open stock?"
"Not to-day."
"Markets are very firm."
"I didn't come for that purpose, Maybrick; I want to get the youngster into your office."
"Oh! yes," answered the broker, "I forgot; you spoke about it a little while ago."
"Last time I was up, when I bought those 'Russians'!"
"Against my advice, and burnt your fingers over them."
"True."
"Well, I'll take him. One hundred pounds premium, no salary first year, then seventy pounds and an annual rise according to ability."
"That will do."
"I hope he's smart."
"Smart as a steel trap, though sometimes he's a little absent-minded; and you've got to speak loudly,