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One morning, Mr Barnacle, apparently in a great hurry, looked in at the Import door and called out, "Smith, make me three copies of Elmore's last consignment, at once, on foreign paper." "Yes, sir," said Jack. After a pause, I heard him say, "Will you lend me that entry-book, please, Harris, to make the copies from?" "No," curtly replied Harris; "I'm using it."
"It is true enough, John, for all that. The books have been balanced up. We knew what was in stock fifteen months ago, and we knew from your sale-book what has passed out of the shop, and from your entry-book what has come in. We know now what there is remaining.
There was a pause, then I heard Jack get off his stool and march boldly to the door. He came out and passed solemnly through our office to the door of Mr Barnacle's room, which he entered. Next moment Mr Barnacle came out, very red in the face, and demanded, in a loud voice, "Who is it using the entry-book? Didn't you hear me say the copies were to be made at once, sir? Let Smith have the book."
He seized a stool, dragged it beside the boy's, and sat down. "Sit down," he said. Paul took a seat. Mr. Pappleworth was very close to him. The man seized the letters, snatched a long entry-book out of a rack in front of him, flung it open, seized a pen, and said: "Now look here. You want to copy these letters in here."
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