AN EPISODE IN THE ANNALS OF A QUIET OFFICE.

Wairoa Bell, Volume V, Issue 164, 23 September 1892, Page 7

AN EPISODE IN THE ANNALS OF A QUIET OFFICE.

The directors of the Great Pan Jum Mining Company looked scared. The minutes of the previous meeting had juct been read by meek little Mr Smiffins, the secretary, and Mr Bouncer, the chairman, had just said, in his most pompous and formal manner, ‘ls it your pleasure gentlemen, that I sign these minutes V when the rollicking strains of * Up in a balloon, boys,’ given forth in shrill, earpiercing tones, burst upon the still atmosphere of the Board-room. Acting under the mutual impression that someone, probably the office boy, was secreted under the table, all the directors kicked out simultaneous!}', to the detriment of each other’s shins and the purity of the Queen’s English. A cursory glance suf—6ced to show that the maddening strains did not proceed from that quarter. The chimney, the cupboards, and every nook and corner of the room were investigated, without any light being thrown upon the mysterious occurrence ; and strange to say, the voice always seemed to come from the immediate neighbourhood of the chairman himself. Now the offices underneath were occupied by a rival concern, the Moonshine Mining Company, the secretary of which, hearing the singing from above, and wishing to make himself pleasant, sent up a message politely requesting the directors of the Great Pan Jum Mining Company to defer their smoking concert till after office hours. Naturally choleric, Mr Bouncer, who had been rapidly approaching bursting point, on the receipt of the message from below fairly exploded. Suddenly the tune changed to the exhilarating ditty of ‘ Hot Codlins,’ and ns suddenly Mr Bouncer flew across the room like a madman, and seizing Mr Smiffins, who was looking up the chimney for the twentieth time, by the collar, shook him violently, ‘ How dnre you, sir ?’ hissed the chaiiman between his teeth. * How dare you insult the Board in this way ? What do you mean, you little rascal, by trying to play off your scurvy tricks on me ? Are you drunk, or tnad ?’ To account for Mr Bouncer’s furious onslaught, it must be mentioned that Mr Smiffins was an accomplished ventriloquist, and at one of the chairman’s annual official dinners (to which he had been invited as a mark of condescension) ho had contribute d to the evening’s entertainment by a display of his imitative powers, and it was ! he chairman’s remembrance of this incident which gave rise to the little unpleasantness hinted at above. It was, however, plain to every one but Mr Bouncer that Mr Smiffins was not responsible for the present vocal display which still continued, only that ‘ Hot Cod lins ’ had given way to ‘ Ask a p’leeceman.’ Mr Bouncer at this fresh outrage, as lie conceived it, lost all control of himself and smote Mr Smiffins on the nose. Mr Smiffins was the mildest of men and could stand a good deal, but he drew the line nt a damaged proboscis, and, fired by the memories of a thousand wrongs, went for the chairman. The next moment the combatants were rolling under the table, to the tenor of the directors and the delight of the office boy, who was watching the proceedings through the keyhole. Meanwhile the singing, and a report industriously spread on Change by the clerks of the Moonshine Mining Company that the directors of the Great Pan Jum Mining Company were indulging in high jinks, had brought together a small crowd, which lined the stairs and overflowed into the street and across the roadway. In addition to the thrill piping of the hidden voice, which was now performing • Home, Sweet Home,’ with variations, there could now be heard the noise of strife, and a few of the more adventurous spirits outside ventured to open the office door and peep in, and soon bets were freely circulating on the great Pan Jum fight. The congested state of the entrance attracted the attention of the police, who quickly traced the cause of the block to its source, and, invading the scene of action, forcibly separated tbe now almost exhausted antagonists, amid the inspiring strains of ‘ Oh, what a time we are having ! ’ In pulling Mr Bouncer’s coat tails, with a view of inducing that gentleman to relinquish his hold of Mr Smiffin’s head, which he had got * in Chancery,’ a small doll-like figure fell out, and the mystery fra* solved.

Mr Bouncer’s visage was a picture when he realised that he had all the time been carrying in his pocket one of Edison’s patent dolls fitted with a phonographic apparatus warranted to reproduce a dozen popular airs. The only explanation he could give was that he had called on his married daughter that morning on his way to the City, and one of his grand-children must have surreptitiously introduced the offending automaton into his pocket, which was subsequently set going by pressure in • advertently applied. A touch of irony was imparted to the circumstance from the fact that he himself had given the miniature vocalist, to the youngster only a week or two before. An intimation from the police that the fun was over soon induced the crowd to disperse, and Mr Bouncer was left to square matters as be3t he could with long stffering Mr Smiffins. Profuse apologies and a broad hint as to an increase of salary made matters right*