Then he sent for some one else, and gave him a scolding that made the unlucky recipient's hair stand on end; then he received a visit from a friend, with whom he chatted and joked for a pleasant quarter of an hour; then he took up the morning paper and skimmed through it, whistling to himself as he did so; then he rang another bell and told the errand-boy who answered it to bring him in at one o'clock sharp a large boiled beef underdone, with carrots and turnips, and a pint of "s.
and b." (whatever that might mean).

Then he suddenly became aware of the fact that he had visitors, and turned inquiringly to the two boys.
"Mr Richmond--" began Horace, in answer to his look.
But the manager cut him short.
"Oh, ah! yes," he said.

"Nuisance! Go to the composing-room and ask for Mr Durfy." Saying which he sat down again at his desk, and became absorbed in his papers.
It was hardly a flattering reception, and gave our heroes very little chance of showing off their classical proficiency.

They had at least expected, as Mr Richmond's nominees, rather more than a half glance from the manager; and to be thus summarily turned over to a Mr Durfy before they had as much as opened their mouths was decidedly unpromising.
Reginald did make one feeble effort to prolong the interview, and to impress the manager at the same time.
"Excuse me," said he, in his politest tones, "would you mind directing us to the composing-room?
My brother and I don't know the geography of the place yet." "Eh?
Composing-room?
Get a boy to show you.

Plenty outside." It was no go, evidently; and they turned dismally from the room.
The errand-boy was coming up the passage as they emerged--the same errand-boy they had seen half an hour ago in the manager's room; but, as their classical friends would say-- "Quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore!" His two arms were strung with the handles of frothing tin cans from the elbow to the wrist.