Bob acknowledged him a very good centre, not
brilliant, but utterly sure and safe.
Full of this dogged spirit, he tackled the day's work. It was a heavy
day's work. The mill was just hitting its stride, the tall ships were
being laden and sent away to the four winds, buyers the country over
were finishing their contracts. Collins, his coat off, his sleeve
protectors strapped closely about his thin arms, worked at an intense
white heat. He wasted no second of time, nor did he permit discursive
interruption. His manner to those who entered the office was civil but
curt. Time was now the essence of the contract these men had with life.
About ten o'clock he turned from a swift contemplation of the tally
board.
"Orde!" said he sharply.
Bob disentangled himself from his chair.
"Look there," said the bookkeeper, pointing a long and nervous finger at
three of the tags he held in his hand.
"There's three errors." He held out for inspection the original
sealers' report which he had dug out of the files.
Bob looked at the discrepant figures with amazement. He had checked the
tags over twice, and both times the error had escaped his notice.
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