[Reginald Cruden by Talbot Baines Reed]@TWC D-Link bookReginald Cruden CHAPTER TEN 8/20
What chance had he among 450 competitors? Mr Medlock took a turn or two up and down the room, meditating with himself and keeping his eye all the time on the boy. "Yes," said he, "450--a lot, isn't it? Very sad to think of it." "Very sad," said Reginald, feeling called upon to say something. "Now," said Mr Medlock, coming to a halt in his walk in front of the boy, "I suppose you guess I wouldn't have asked you to call here if I and my fellow-directors hadn't been pleased with your letter." Reginald looked pleased and said nothing. "And now I've seen you and heard what you've got to say, I think you're not a bad young fellow; but--" Mr Medlock paused, and Reginald's face changed to one of keen anxiety. "I'm afraid, Mr Cruden, you're not altogether the sort we want." The boy's face fell sadly. "I would do my best," he said, as bravely as he could, "if you'd try me. I don't know what the work is yet, but I'm ready to do anything I can." "Humph!" said Mr Medlock.
"What we advertise for is sharp agents, to sell goods on commission among their friends.
Now, do you think you could sell L500 worth of wine and cigars and that sort of thing every year among your friends? You'd need to do that to make L50 a year, you know.
You understand? Could you go round to your old neighbours and crack up our goods, and book their orders and that sort of thing? I don't think you could, myself.
It strikes me you are too much of a gentleman." Reginald sat silent for a moment, with the colour coming and going in his cheeks; then he looked up and said, slowly-- "I'm afraid I could not do that, sir--I didn't know you wanted that." So saying he took up his hat and rose to go. Mr Medlock watched him with a smile, if not of sympathy, at any rate of approval, and when he rose motioned him back to his seat. "Not so fast, my man; I like your spirit, and we may hit it yet." Reginald resumed his seat with a new interest in his anxious face. "You wouldn't suit us as a drummer--that is," said Mr Medlock, hastily correcting himself, "as a tout--an agent; but you might suit us in another way.
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