It was Mr.Dill, a little, meek-looking man with a bald head.
He was on the rolls, had been admitted years and years ago, but he had never set up for himself; perhaps he deemed the post of head manager in the office of Carlyle & Davidson, with its substantial salary, sufficient for his ambition; and manager he had been to them when the present Mr.Carlyle was in long petticoats.

He was a single man, and occupied handsome apartments near.
Between the room of Mr.Carlyle and that of the clerks, was a small square space or hall, having ingress also from the house passage; another room opened from it, a narrow one, which was Mr.Dill's own peculiar sanctum.

Here he saw clients when Mr.Carlyle was out or engaged, and here he issued private orders.

A little window, not larger than a pane of glass, looked out from the clerk's office; they called it old Dill's peep-hole and wished it anywhere else, for his spectacles might be discerned at it more frequently than was agreeable.

The old gentleman had a desk, also, in their office, and there he frequently sat.