"I am glad I asked you to help me," Hazel returned gratefully. "I only hope it won’t matter very much taking you from your work, you know."
"Say no more about that," Teddie responded complacently. "It was a bit awkward, but how was I to know that it was all for such a good purpose? Here we are," he added, as the cab drew up before a building, and Hazel, timidly lifting her eyes, read in gold letters upon the window-pane, "Messrs. Langham & Fielding, Publishers."
They entered the building, and found themselves in a large, bare place that looked to their inexperienced eyes to be a combination of book-warehouse, office, and shop, for new books were stacked upon shelves all round the apartment; parcels of all sizes were piled upon the floor, among which, in an adjacent corner, a man in a leather apron was busy sorting. Some clerkly looking young men sat or stood at high desks, whilst a long counter ran down the room, rather to one side, which an office-lad seemed to be engaged in polishing.
A fellow-feeling for the clerks, a wish not to disturb them in their arduous tasks, made Teddie Le Mesurier turn to the boy.
"This lady," he said, intimating Hazel, who trembled slightly, "wishes to see one of your principals—the editor of the —— Magazine, if possible."
"Who is it from?" inquired the office-boy mechanically, as, without a vestige of expression, his gaze seemed to fix itself on Teddie’s left ear.
Hazel looked blank. "Who is it from?" she reiterated, at a loss.
"Now look here," said Teddie angrily, "none of your office gibberish. Just take up my card and say——"
At this juncture a pleasant-faced clerk stepped forward. "Get back to your work, Tommie," he said briskly, and he turned to the pair. "What can I do for you?" he asked, looking from one to the other.
Teddie repeated his formula and handed the young man his card. "We are on the lady’s errand," he explained, "but she has no card," and Hazel felt mortified, she scarcely knew why; but it seemed so terribly young not to possess cards, although she had never before felt the lack.
"Is it an appointment?" asked the clerk. "Will your business be known?"
"No," Teddie returned stoutly, "but there must be a beginning, you know. We wish to submit a manuscript."