ding, was large, long, and well lit; but all the
windows were shut to keep out the dust, and there was a horrid smell of
cooking. There were long tables covered with cloths, with big glass
bottles of water at intervals, and down the centre salt cellars and
bottles of vinegar. The assistants crowded in noisily, and sat down on
forms still warm from those who had dined at twelve-thirty.
"No pickles," remarked the man next to Philip.
He was a tall thin young man, with a hooked nose and a pasty face; he had
a long head, unevenly shaped as though the skull had been pushed in here
and there oddly, and on his forehead and neck were large acne spots red
and inflamed. His name was Harris. Philip discovered that on some days
there were large soup-plates down the table full of mixed pickles. They
were very popular. There were no knives and forks, but in a minute a large
fat boy in a white coat came in with a couple of handfuls of them and
threw them loudly on the middle of the table. Each man took what he
wanted; they were warm and greasy from recent washing in dirty water.
Plates of meat swimming in gravy were handed round by boys in white
jackets, and as they flung each plate down with the quick gesture of a
prestidigitator the gravy slopped over on to the table-cloth. Then they
brought large dishes of cabbages and potatoes; the sight of them turned
Philip's stomach; he noticed that everyone poured quantities of vinegar
over them. The noise was awful. They talked and laughed and shouted, and
there was the clatter of knives and forks, and strange sounds of eating.
Philip was glad to get back into the department. He was beginning to
remember where each one was, and had less often to ask one of the
assistants, when somebody wanted to know the way.
"First to the right. Second on the left, madam."
One or two of the girls spoke to him, just a word when things were slack,
and he felt they were taking his measure. At five he was sent up again to
the dining-room for tea. He was glad to sit down. There were large slices
of bread heavily spread with butter; and many had pots of jam, which were
kept in the 'store' and had their names written on.
Philip was exhausted when work stopped at half past six. Harris, the man
he had sat next to at dinner, offered to take him over to Harrington
Street to show him where he was to sleep. He told Philip there was a spare
bed in his room, and, as the other rooms were full, he expected Philip
wou
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