It had not been going quite so well lately though, and this morning it seemed decidedly out of order.
He took a seat at the table and busied himself with a catalogue.
Presently he rose and touched the boy gently on the shoulder.
"Come into the office a minute, will you ?" he said, with a glance at the cashier.

And Keith, wondering what on earth he wanted with him, followed into a recess shut on from the shop by a plate-glass and mahogany screen.

Isaac hunted among the papers on his writing-table for a letter he could not find.
"You remember your old friend, Sir Joseph Harden, don't you ?" "Yes." Keith was in fact devoted to Sir Joseph's memory.

He had often wondered what it was, that mysterious "something" which Sir Joseph would have done for him, if he had lived, and whether, if he had done it, it would have made a difference.
"Well, I got a letter from his place in Devonshire this morning.
They've asked me to send them some one down to catalogue his library.
They want an expert, and he must go at once and finish by the twenty-seventh, or it's no use.

Dear me, where is that letter ?" Keith goaded his brain to an agonizing activity.