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Updated: May 28, 2025
It was on that spot and in that attitude that he usually thought out his carefully written weekly article upon "Home Affairs." He was still there when the editor touched a small gong which stood on the table at his side. The silent door instantly opened, and the supernaturally sharp boy stood on the threshold grimly awaiting his orders. "Bradshaw." "Yess'r," replied the boy, closing the door.
"Has Mr. Vellacott gone?" "No sir!" In a tone which seemed to ask: "Now is it likely?" "Where is he?" "In the shop, sir." "Ask him to come here, please." "Yess'r." The small boy closed the door. Once outside he placed his hand upon his heart and made a low bow to the handle, retreating backwards to the head of the stairs.
There was no mirth in it. It was a species of punctuation, and implied that Mr. Morgan had finished his remark. "I will ring for him now and see what he says about it." Mr. Bodery extended his chubby white hand and touched a small gong. Almost instantaneously the silent door opened and a voice from without said, "Yess'r." A small boy with a mobile, wicked mouth stood at attention in the doorway.
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