“ Mr. J. A. Bates, Esquire!” exclaimed the cross voice just behind his ear.
Paul looked at “Mr. J. A. Bates, Esquire” in his own vile writing, and wondered what was the matter now.
“Didn’t they teach you any better than that while they were at it? If you put ‘Mr.’ you don’t put ‘Esquire’—a man can’t be both at once.”
The boy regretted his too-much generosity in disposing of honours, hesitated, and with trembling fingers, scratched out the “Mr.” Then all at once Mr. Jordan snatched away the invoice.
“Make another! Are you going to send that to a gentleman?” And he tore up the blue form irritably.
Paul, his ears red with shame, began again. Still Mr. Jordan watched.
“I don’t know what they do teach in schools. You’ll have to write better than that. Lads learn nothing nowadays, but how
