'You must be here comink, please,' a voice answered in an accent which Mary immediately recognised. She had spent her childhood around Rosemary Lane and the Whitechapel markets and the accent was unmistakably that of a German Jew.
Mary entered and curtsied to the man, who sat well back from a large desk. He was dressed in a morning suit and his huge stomach, she felt certain, would not permit his very short arms to reach to the edge of the desk, the top of which contained a pot of blacking and a goose quill pen, a large writing tablet and a medium-sized brass bell of the kind a schoolmaster might use to summon his pupils from play.
'Good mornin', Mr Goldstein,' Mary said, summoning all her courage into a nervous smile.
Mr Goldstein seemed astonished to see her and commenced immediately to bluster.
'Ach! Vot is dis? A vooman? You are a vooman! Vot is vanting a vooman here? You are vanting to see me, ja?'
'I come about the job, sir. The assistant clerk… the position what was advertised?'
Mr Goldstein's bewilderment persisted and Mary added desperately, 'It were advertised on the 'oardings, sir.'
'You are a vooman and you vant you can be a clerk?' Mr Goldstein was now somewhat recovered, though still plainly bemused.
'I'm most 'appy to do a test, anythin' you want, sir! Please, your 'onour, er, Mr Goldstein, don't send me away, give me a chance, I can do it, gov… honest I can!'
Mary was suddenly conscious of Mr Goldstein staring at the region of her waist and that the merest semblance of a smile had appeared on his moon-round face.
'Abacus!' He pointed a fat finger at her midriff. 'You can use, ja?'
'Yes, sir, Mr Goldstein, your honour, since I was a brat… er child, give me a sum, any sum you like, sir.'
'In Armenia, also ven I vos a Kind! Das ist wunderbar? he chuckled. 'You are vonting I should give you some sums? Ja, I can do zis!'
Whereupon, to Mary's astonishment, he pushed his chair violently backwards. She now saw it to be on tiny wheels and possessed of a seat which could swivel. She observed that the points of his highly polished boots only just touched the floor. Using them to gain a purchase Mr Goldstein spun himself around so that the chair, with his fat dumpling body within it, flashed past her astonished face fully four times, much like an egg in an egg cup turned into a merry-go-round.
When it came to a halt Mary could see that Mr Goldstein now sat considerably closer to the ground and that his boots were planted firmly upon it. Propelling himself towards the desk his stomach now fitted neatly beneath it, the desktop coming to just under his arms.
'A test? Ja, das is gut!' He pointed to the abacus. 'From vere are you learnink zis?'
'My father, sir. 'E were in the East Hindies.'
'He is Chinee man?'
'No, sir… er, Mr Goldstein, 'e were a Dutchie, from 'Olland.'
Mr Goldstein reached for his quill and dipping it into the small pot of blacking he hastily scrawled an elaborate equation on the pad in front of him. Then he pushed it over to Mary.
Mary examined the problem scrawled on the paper tablet. Then, laying it down, she placed her abacus beside it and began immediately to move the beads across the thin wire rails, her long, slender fingers blurring with the speed of her movements. She hesitated once or twice before once again sending the bright beads flying. In a short time she slapped the last bead into place and stood back looking down at Mr Goldstein. There had never been a more important moment in Mary's life.
She looked up to see that Mr Goldstein was smiling and holding a gold hunter open in his hand. Mary announced quietly, though her heart was once again pounding furiously and she fought to keep her breathing steady, 'Eight 'undred and sixty-two pounds… at eleven pounds, fourteen shillin's and sixpence ha'penny a case, sir… er, Mr Goldstein.'
'Gut! Gut, young lady, in vun half minute! Now ve can see, ja?'
He placed the watch down on the desk and sliding open a drawer produced a large ledger which he opened and examined for a moment, running his fat index finger down several columns until it came to rest.
'Ja! Das is gut! And also schnell!'
'Beg pardon, sir?'
'Very fast!' he beamed. 'You can write also in ledger?'
He pointed to the pad on which he'd written previously and returning his quill into the blacking pot he handed it to Mary.
'Please… Numbers, also vords, let me see?'
Mr Bishop had not only provided books for Mary from the master's library but, upon her beseeching him, had on several occasions found old ledgers for her to copy out. Mary had studied these assiduously, emulating their neat columns and precise language a thousand times until she knew the contents of every page in her sleep. Now she wrote carefully in the well-formed and almost elegant copperplate she had studied so hard at the hands of her young Oxford lover, and later for countless hours on her own, to perfect.
34 cases @ a total of six hundred and twelve pounds no shillings and eightpence = seventeen pounds, one shilling and sevenpence halfpenny per case.
Then she repeated the sum in neat numerals directly below this sentence. She handed the quill and pad back to Mr Goldstein.
Mr Goldstein examined Mary's writing for a sufficient period of time for her to grow anxious that she might have made a mistake. Then he looked up, his expression stern and businesslike, shaking a fat finger with a large gold ring directly at her as in admonishment.
'I pay eight shillink for vun veek and Saturday only no verk. Half-past seven you are startink, eight o'clock you are finishink. Tomorrow half-past seven o'clock report, if you please, Mr Baskin, who is also here the senior clerk.'
Mr Goldstein pointed his stubby finger at the abacus, 'Gut!' he said.
Unclenching his remaining fingers he patted the air in front of him as though he were patting the abacus in approval, giving Mary the distinct impression that he had not employed her, but her frame of wooden beads.
Mary had to restrain herself from bursting into tears of joy.
'Thank you, sir, Mr Goldstein! You'll not regret it! Thank you and Gawd bless you, sir!'
Mr Goldstein grunted and taking up the bell on the desk he rang it loudly several times. Mary now became conscious that, in the short time she'd been in Mr Goldstein's office, the warehouse had filled with the hum of people going about their work. Now the buzz and clatter stopped as the bell rang out.
'Mr Baskin!' Mr Goldstein shouted into the sudden calm.
Presently a tall and very thin, Ichabod-Crane-looking man, stooping almost double, opened the wide door and entered the office. Mr Goldstein, writing in the ledger, ignored his presence for a full minute while the man stood with his hands clasped in the manner of a mendicant, his head downcast and his eyes avoiding contact with Mary.
Looking up from his ledger Mr Goldstein pointed directly at the abacus.
'Tomorrow Miss… ' he suddenly realised that he had not enquired as to Mary's name, '… Miss Abacus!' he added suddenly and smiled at Mary. 'Ja! I can call you this!' He returned his gaze to Mr Baskin, 'Tomorrow she is startink vork. You show her varehouse, please!'
'Very well, sir, at once, show her the warehouse is it, Mr Goldstein? I shall attend to Miss Aba… Abacus?' He paused. 'For what purpose may I ask? A visit is it?'
Mr Goldstein looked up. 'Clerk, she is new clerk!' he said impatiently and then returned his attention to the ledger.
'The position? A woman? New clerk?' Mr Baskin was clearly confused as though the three bits of information couldn't somehow be joined together in his mind.