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II
But enough of these revelations. The central figure of our story is now
going along behind the counter, a draper indeed, with your purchases in
his arms, to the warehouse, where the various articles you have selected
will presently be packed by the senior porter and sent to you. Returning
thence to his particular place, he lays hands on a folded piece of
gingham, and gripping the corners of the folds in his hands, begins to
straighten them punctiliously. Near him is an apprentice, apprenticed to
the same high calling of draper's assistant, a ruddy, red-haired lad
in a very short tailless black coat and a very high collar, who is
deliberately unfolding and refolding some patterns of cretonne. By
twenty-one he too may hope to be a full-blown assistant, even as Mr.
Hoopdriver. Prints depend from the brass rails above them, behind are
fixtures full of white packages containing, as inscriptions testify,
Lino, Hd Bk, and Mull. You might imagine to see them that the two were
both intent upon nothing but smoothness of textile and rectitude of
fold. But to tell the truth, neither is thinking of the mechanical
duties in hand. The assistant is dreaming of the delicious time--only
four hours off now--when he will resume the tale of his bruises and
abrasions. The apprentice is nearer the long long thoughts of boyhood,
and his imagination rides cap-a-pie through the chambers of his brain,
seeking some knightly quest in honour of that Fair Lady, the last but
one of the girl apprentices to the dress-making upstairs. He inclines
rather to street fighting against revolutionaries--because then she
could see him from the window.
8
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