He added that Barber could now and then influence the
management--"when he was not himself," as the cashier put it--or they
would not have tolerated him so long.
"But this was only momentary," said the cashier. "He was more often weak
and feeble, and they took a good opportunity to get rid of him. He was
uncanny," ended the cashier significantly.
I cannot imagine how Barber existed after he lost his place. Perhaps his
mother was able to help a little. On the day I met him, by mere chance
in the street, he looked sick and miserable; his sallow face was more
blotchy than ever. Whether he saw me or not I don't know, but he was
certainly making as if to go by when I stopped him. I told him he looked
weak and unwell.
"Trust you to pass a cheery remark!" And he continued irritably:
"How can you expect a chap to look well if he has something inside him
stronger than himself forcing him to do the silliest things? It _must_
wear him out. I never know when it will take me next. I'm here in London
looking for a job today, but even if I find one, I'm sure to do some
tom-fool thing that will get me the sack."
He passed his hand across his face. "I'd rather not think about it."
I took pity on him, he looked so harassed, and I asked him to come on to
a Lyons restaurant with me and have a bit of lunch.
Pages:
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510