"I'm glad you understand, Mr. Bigelow. To take the second matter first, I was going to suggest that you be a little more careful about the language you use. I know most young men talk rather slangily and-uh-tough these days, and no one thinks anything of it. But in your case, well, don't you see?"
"I understand. And! appreciate the advice," I said. "After all, regardless of what's happened, it won't hurt me to talk a little better brand of English."
"I'm afraid I put things rather badly," he said. "Badly or baldly, if there's any difference, I suppose I'm so used to ordering these student workers around that-"
"Sure-surely," I said. "Don't apologize, Mr. Kendall. Like I say, I appreciate your interest."
"It's a very warm interest, Mr. Bigelow." He bobbed his head seriously. "All my life, I've had someone to look after, and now with my parents dead-God rest them-and nothing to occupy me but my job and my books, I-I-"
"Sure. Surely," I repeated.
He laughed, a shamed sad little laugh. "I tried to take a vacation last year. I own a little lakeside cabin up in Canada- nothing pretentious, you understand; the site is too isolated to have any value, and we, my father and I, built the cabin ourselves-so I bought a car and started to drive up there. Two days after! left town, I was back here again. Back here working. And I've hardly had my car out of the garage since."
I nodded, waiting. He chuckled halfheartedly. "That's an explanation and an apology, if you can unravel it. Incidentally, if you'd like to use the car some time, you'll be entirely welcome."
"Thanks," I said, "I'd be glad to pay you for it."
"You'd only complicate my life further for me." He laughed again. "I could only add it to my savings, and since they, obviously, can do me not the slightest good-I couldn't appreciate the pleasures they might buy, and the pension which will soon be due me is more than enough to provide for my wants-so-"
I said, "I understand," or something equally brilliant.
"I imagine I'm too old to acquire the habit of spending," he went on. "Thrift like work has become a vice with me. I'm not comfortable with them, but I'd be less content without them. Does that sound pretty stupid to you?"
"I wouldn't put it that way," I said. "I'd say, though, that if you had enough money-you know twenty or thirty thousand dollars-you might get quite a bit of fun out of it."
"Mmm. You feel the case is similar to that of having a little knowledge, eh? Perhaps you're right. But since the relative little is what I do have and I see no way of substantially increasing it-" He ended the sentence with a shrug. "Now to get back to you, Mr. Bigelow, if I may-if you won't feel that I'm trying to order your life for you-"
"Not at all," I said.
"I've felt for a long time that there should be a storeroom man in here. Someone to check these supplies out instead of merely letting the different departments help themselves. I mentioned the fact to the owner today and he gave his approval, so if you'd like to have the job you can start in immediately."
"And you think I should?" I said. "Start in immediately, I mean."
"Well"-he hesitated; then he nodded firmly-"! certainly don't see that you could lose anything by it."
I lighted a cigarette, stalling for a minute's time. I thought it over fast, and! decided that whatever he was or wasn't, I was on my own. This was my job, my game, and! knew how to play it. And if anyone was going to tell me what to do, it would have to be The Man.
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Kendall," I said. "I've had a long trip, and I'm pretty tired and-"
"The job won't be at all arduous. You can set your own hours, practically, and much of the time there's nothing at all to-"
"I think I'd rather wait," I said. "I plan on running into New York tomorrow night, or Saturday at the latest. Today would probably be the only day I could get in before Sunday."
"Oh," he said. "Well, of course, in that case-"
"I would like to have the job, though,"! said, "That is, if you can hold it for me."
He said that he could, rather reluctantly, apparently not too pleased at failing to get his own way. Then his face cleared suddenly, and he slid down off the table.
"I can give itto you, now," he said. "We'll say that you're just laying off for a couple of days."
"Fine," I said.
"I know I'm overcautious and apprehensive. But I always feel that if there's any small barrier we can erect against potential difficulties we should take advantage of it."
"Perhaps you're right," I said.
We walked along the rows of shelves, with him pointing out the different cans and packages of baking ingredients and giving me a running commentary on how they were used.
"I'm having some batch cards designed-that is, requisitions for ingredients which the various departments will submit to you. All you'll have to do is fill them. Now, over here is our cold-storage room where we keep perishables-"
He levered the door on a big walk-in refrigerator, the kind you see in meat markets, and we went inside. "Egg whites," he said, tapping a fifteen-gallon can with the toe of his shoe. "And these are egg yolks, and here are whole eggs," tapping two more cans. "Bakeries buy these things this way for two reasons: they're considerably cheaper, of course, and they can be measured much more easily."
"I see," I said, trying to keep from shivering. I'd only been in the place for a minute, but the cold was cutting me to the bone.
"Now, this door," he said, pushing it open again. "You'll notice that I left it well off the latch. I'd suggest that you do the same if you don't want to risk freezing to death. As"-he smiled pleasantly-"I'm sure you don't."
"You can sing two choruses of that," I said, following him out of the refrigerator. "I mean-"
He laughed and gave me a dignified clap on the back. "Quite all right, Mr. Bigelow. As I said a moment ago, I'm inclined to be overcautious… Well, I think that will be enough for today. Uh-I know it isn't much, but in view of the job's other advantages-uh-will twelve dollars a week be all right?"
"That will be fine," I said.
"You can set your own hours-within reason. The ingredients for the various dough batches can be checked out before they're ready for use, and then you'll be free to study or do- uh-anything else you like."
We left the main storage room and entered a smaller one, an anteroom, stacked high with sacks of salt, sugar and flour. At the end of a narrow corridor between the sacks, there was a door opening onto the street. Kendall unlocked it, winking at me.
"You see, Mr. Bigelow? Your own private entrance and exit. No one is supposed to have a key to this but me, but if you should be caught up on your work and feel the need for a breath of air, I see no reason why-uh-"
He gave me one of his prim, dignified smiles, and let me out the door. I paused outside and lighted another cigarette, glancing casually up and down the street. The door-the one I'd just come out of-was well to the right of the entrance to the office. Even if there was someone in there working late, as! would be on an after-school job, I could go in and out without being seen. And straight down the street, a matter of a hundred and fifty yards or so, was the house.