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worthless. Nothing will sell, but what can I do? I cannot let her starve, can I?’
    Alistair’s opinion of the elderly man rose with every day that passed, and he set out to absorb as much as he could of what he was being taught about human nature. He could not blame, any more than Manny could, the poor wives whose men drank most of their wages, or gambled them away, or refused to work at all, and admired them for struggling to keep their families fed and clad and, most importantly, together. On one occasion, however, he felt he had to comment on what seemed to him a betrayal of trust. ‘The gent’s watch that woman redeemed was real gold, wasn’t it? How could a family as poor as that afford anything so expensive? And she didn’t say anything when you let her get it back for less than you gave her for it in the first place. She’s cheating you, Manny.’
    â€˜No, Alistair, never think that. All the women who come to me are as honest as the day is long. In this case, Mrs Parker’s husband came from a well-to-do family, and was given the watch for his twenty-first birthday. His father, however, did not approve of the girl he wished to marry, and headstrong and deeply in love, young Parker left home in order to make her his wife. They now have three sons, and although he does not regret what he did, according to his wife, he still cherishes the watch, the one and only item of any value he possesses, and makes a point of wearing it to church every Sunday. You see, she has never told him that it languishes in my safe from Monday to Saturday each week. It is her way of proving that she can manage on what he gives her.’
    â€˜But she’s living a lie,’ Alistair burst out. ‘She’s not managing, or if she is, it’s because you’re helping her. She’s cheating you as well as her husband.’
    Manny shook his head. ‘Oh, Alistair, how little you know of these people. They do the best they can with what little they have. I suppose you think Mrs Parker should sell the watch to me? If she did, her family could certainly live comfortably for a year or so, perhaps, but at what cost? The loss of her husband’s respect, his love? Because she would never, ever, be able to buy it back for him. Can you understand that?’
    The youth looked sheepish. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. It must be terrible to have to live like that.’
    Dougal Finnie was also having new experiences. At first, he felt as if he were caged, having to spend his entire days indoors at everyone’s beck and call, but there were compensations. Apart from the cash office where he worked – they called it the Counting House – there was a despatch office and a general office, the staff of both including several girls … not ordinary girls, though. He had never seen such beauties, far outshining any of the girls he had known back in Forvit.
    As he told Alistair one night in bed – where they exchanged stories of the events of their days – ‘I’m going to be spoilt for choice, Ally, short ones, tall ones, slim, well-rounded, blonde, dark, redheads, they’re all there! Would you like to make up a foursome one night? I could tell my one to bring a friend with her for you.’
    Trying to imagine the kind of girls who would appeal to Dougal, Alistair said, ‘No thanks, I’ll find a girl of my own when I’m ready for it.’
    â€˜Och you, you’re getting to be a right old stick-in-the-mud. Or are you waiting for Ivy Dearie to make another move?’
    â€˜Shut up!’ Alistair grinned to show he didn’t mind being teased now. Originally, he had felt cheated that nature had robbed him of the office job, but things had worked out quite well, for he was more than happy working with Emanuel D. Isaacson.
    *    *    *
    Alistair was exhausted when he finished on Christmas Eve, with dozens of mothers, and a few