make a face so hideous that the other shall be compelled to laugh! We have deep sympathy with clerks. We have been a clerk, and know what it is to have the fires of Vesuvius raging within, while under the necessity of exhibiting the cool aspect of Spitzbergen without.
But these clerks were not utterly miserable. On the contrary, they were, to use one of their own familiar phrases, rather jolly than otherwise. Evening was before them in far-off but attainable perspective. Home, lawn-tennis, in connection with bright eyes and pretty faces, would compensate for the labours of the day and let off the steam. They were deep in their game when a rap at the door brought their faces suddenly to a state of nature.
"Come in," said the first clerk.
"And wipe your feet," murmured the second, in a low tone.
A gentleman, with an earnest countenance, entered.
"Is Mr. Lowstoft in his office?"
"He is, sir," said the first clerk, descending from his perch with an air of good- will, and requesting the visitor's name and business.
The visitor handed his card, on which the name Cyrus Field was written, and the clerk, observing it, admitted the owner at once to the inner sanctum where Mr. Lowstoft transacted business.
