A counter and railing stood inside the door.

There was a telephone on the wall.

In one corner he also observed a stack of surveyor's instruments; a big drawing-board straddled on spindle legs across one end of the room, a mechanical drawing of some kind, no doubt the plan of the mine, unrolled upon it; a chromo representing a couple of peasants in a ploughed field (Millet's "Angelus") was nailed unframed upon the wall, and hanging from the same wire nail that secured one of its corners in place was a bullion bag and a cartridge belt with a loaded revolver in the pouch.
The dentist approached the counter and leaned his elbows upon it.

Three men were in the room--a tall, lean young man, with a thick head of hair surprisingly gray, who was playing with a half-grown great Dane puppy; another fellow about as young, but with a jaw almost as salient as McTeague's, stood at the letter-press taking a copy of a letter; a third man, a little older than the other two, was pottering over a transit.
This latter was massively built, and wore overalls and low boots streaked and stained and spotted in every direction with gray mud.

The dentist looked slowly from one to the other; then at length, "Is the foreman about ?" he asked.
The man in the muddy overalls came forward.
"What you want ?" He spoke with a strong German accent.
The old invariable formula came back to McTeague on the instant.
"What's the show for a job ?" At once the German foreman became preoccupied, looking aimlessly out of the window.