“Do it at once,” said Bounderby, “has always been my motto from a child. When I thought I would run away from my egg-box and my grandmother, I did it at once. Do you the same. Do this at once!”

“Are you walking?” asked his friend. “I have the father’s address. Perhaps you would not mind walking to town with me?”

“Not the least in the world,” said Mr. Bounderby, “as long as you do it at once!”

So, Mr. Bounderby threw on his hat⁠—he always threw it on, as expressing a man who had been far too busily employed in making himself, to acquire any fashion of wearing his hat⁠—and with his hands in his pockets, sauntered out into the hall. “I never wear gloves,” it was his custom to say. “I didn’t climb up the ladder in them .⁠—Shouldn’t be so high up, if I had.”