BUSINESS AS USUAL.


"Business as usual!" said Mr Pamphlett heartily to his clerk Mr
Hendy, as he let himself in at 9.40 by the side door of the Bank.
Mr Hendy lived on the premises, which his wife served as caretaker,
with a "help" to do the scrubbing.

Mr Hendy, always punctual, stood ready in the passage, awaiting his
master. He received Mr Pamphlett's top-hat and walking-stick, helped
him off with his black frock-coat, helped him on with the light
alpaca jacket in which during the hot weather Mr Pamphlett combined
banking with comfort.

"Business as usual!" said Mr Pamphlett, slipping into the alpaca.
"That's the motto. Old England's sound, Hendy!"

"Yes, sir: leastways, I hope so."

"Sound as a bell. It's money will put us through this, Hendy, as it
always has. We mayn't wear uniforms"--Mr Pamphlett smoothed down the
alpaca over his stomach--"but we're the real sinews of this War."

Mr Hendy--a slight middle-aged man, with fluffy straw-coloured hair
which he grew long above his ears, to compensate for the baldness of
his cranium--answered that he was glad Mr Pamphlett took it in so
hearty a fashion, but for his part, if it wasn't for the Missus, he
was dying to enlist and have a slap at the Germans. Mr Pamphlett