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Updated: May 4, 2025
Besides, Melsom has his heart set on this. I don't believe it will lead to anything, mind you, but it will oblige him and he often does a good turn for us." "That settles it," said Ned. "Only I'll have to say I'm only giving my own opinion and I'll have to talk straight whether he likes it or not." "Of course.
Why he should be nervous he could not have explained. But he was cool enough when, after a minute's delay, a clerk led Melsom and himself through a smaller archway opening from this great office hall and up a carpetted stone stairway loading between two great bare walls and along a long lofty passage, wherein footfalls echoed softly on the carpetted stone floor.
Martin John, rope-maker, Temple. St. Stephen. Morgan William, glazier, St. Philip. Milton Francis, printer, St. James. Mittens Thomas, cabinet-maker, St. Paul. Mountain Abraham, blacksmith, St. Philip. Mutter Joshua, carpenter, St. St. Mary, Redcliffe. Mitchell James, sawyer, St. Paul. Melsom William, cheese-factor, St. St. Peter. Oliver George, victualler, St. St. Michael.
I look at the matter solely from a business standpoint. I am a loser by disturbances in trade, so I try to prevent disturbances. I've always been able to prevent them in my own business and I think they can always be prevented." "Well, Melsom, you may be right when it's a question of wages, but this is a question of principle.
Melsom. "Now, where do we differ?" Strong asked, when Melsom had gone. "We are you and me, of course," said Ned, putting his hat on the floor. Strong nodded. "Well, you have sat down at your desk here and drawn up a statement as to how I shall work without asking me. I object.
If we haven't a right to employ whoever we like at any terms we may make with any individual we employ what rights have we?" "Hear what they think of it, Strong! It can surely do no harm to find out what makes them fight so." And so on for half an hour. "Well, I don't mind having a chat with one of them," conceded Strong at last. "It's only because you persist so, Melsom.
Melsom was looking for him. "Who's Melsom?" "Oh! A sort of four-leaved clover, a reasonable employer," answered his genial informant. "He's in a large way of business, interested in a good many concerns, and whenever he's got a finger in anything we can always get on with it.
Finally they reached a polished, pannelled door which being opened showed Strong writing busily at a cabinet desk placed in the centre of the handsomely furnished office-room. The great financier greeted Melsom cordially, nodded civilly enough to Ned and agreed with the latter's immediate statement that he came, as a private individual solely, to see a private individual, at the request of Mr.
Strong thought, contemptuously, jotting instructions on some letters he was glancing through, working away as one accustomed to making the most of spare minutes. Mr. Melsom had left Ned and Strong together, having to attend to his own business which had already been sufficiently interfered with by his exertions on behalf of his pet theory of "getting things talked over."
I told him I thought it would be all right." "I don't see how I can do that without instructions," repeated Ned. "If it were formal there could be only one possible instruction, surely," urged the other. "As it is absolutely informal and as all that Melsom hopes is that it may lead to a formal conference, I think you should go. You'd talk to anybody, wouldn't you?
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