I hope the next party he robs will be as lazy about her rights as me." I dropped my uncle's half-sovereign back into my purse, with the rather sad conviction that after all I was not the only honest and righteous person in the world.
The next morning, on my arrival at Hawk Street rather before the time (I had taken to being early at the office, partly to avoid arriving there at the same time as Smith, and partly to have the company of young Larkins, of postage-stamp celebrity, in my walk from Beadle Square), I found Doubleday already there in a state of great perturbation.
"What do you think," he cried, almost before I entered the office--"what do you think they've done?
I knew that young puppy's coming was no good to us! Here have I been here twelve years next Michaelmas, and he not a year, and blest if I haven't got to hand over the petty cash to my lord, because old Merrett wants the dear child to get used to a sense of responsibility in the business! Sense of rot, I call it!" It certainly did seem hard lines.

Doubleday, as long as I had been at Hawk Street, had always been the custodian of all loose cash paid into the office, which he carefully guarded and accounted for, handing it over regularly week by week to be paid into the bank.
It is never pleasant when a fellow has held an office of trust to have it coolly taken from him and handed to another.

In this case no one would suspect it meant any lack of confidence; for Doubleday, even his enemies admitted, was as honest as the Bank of England; but it meant elevating another at his expense, which did not seem exactly fair.
"If the darling's such a big pot in the office," growled Doubleday, "they'd better make him head clerk at once, and let me run his errands for him." "Never mind," said I, "it'll be so much less work for you." "Yes, and a pretty mess the accounts will get into, to make up for it." Hawkesbury entered at this moment, smiling most beautifully.
"How punctual you two are!" said he.
"Need to be punctual," growled Doubleday, "when I've got to hand you over the petty cash." "Oh!" said Hawkesbury; "the petty cash?
My uncle was saying something about my keeping it.

I think it's a pity he couldn't let it stay where it was; you're so much more used to it than I am.

Besides, I've plenty of work to do without it." "I suppose I shall get some of your work to do for you," said Doubleday--"that is, if I'm competent!" Hawkesbury laughed softly, as if it were a joke, and Doubleday relapsed into surly silence.
It was still some minutes before the other clerks were due.