The Last Chronicle of Barset [76]
this once, I'll never ask you again. I'll give you a written promise if you like, and I'll pledge myself to pay it back by thirty shillings a time out of the next two months' salary. I will, indeed.' And then Mr Cradell began to cry. But when Johnny at last took out his cheque-book and wrote a cheque for three pounds, Mr Cradell's eyes glistened with joy. 'Upon my word I am so much obliged to you! You are the best fellow that ever lived. And Amelia will say the same when she hears of it.'
'I don't believe she'll say anything of the kind, Cradell. If I remember anything of her, she has a stouter heart than that.' Cradell admitted that his wife had a stouter heart than himself, and then made his way back to his own part of the office.
This little interruption to the current of Mr Eames's thoughts was, I think, good for the service, as immediately on his friend's departure he went to his work; whereas, had not he been called away from his reflections about Miss Dale, he would have sat thinking about her affairs probably for the rest of the morning. As it was, he really did write a dozen notes in answer to as many private letters addressed to his chief, Sir Raffle Buffle, in all of which he made excellently-worded false excuses for the non-performance of various requests made to Sir Raffle by the writers. 'He's about the best hand at it that I know,' said Sir Raffle, one day, to the secretary; 'otherwise you may be sure I shouldn't keep him here.' 'I will allow that he's clever,' said the secretary. 'It isn't cleverness, so much as tact. It's what I call tact. I hadn't been long in the service before I mastered it myself; and now that I've been at the trouble to teach him I don't want to have the trouble to teach another. But upon my word he must mind his p's and q's; upon my word, he must; and you had better tell him so.' 'The fact is, Mr Kissing,' said the private secretary the next day to the secretary--Mr Kissing was at that time secretary to the board of commissioners for the receipt of income tax--'the fact is, Mr Kissing, Sir Raffle should never attempt to write a letter himself. He doesn't know how to do it. He always says twice too much, and yet not half enough. I wish you'd tell him so. He won't believe me.' From which it will be seen Mr Eames was proud of his special accomplishment, but did not feel any gratitude to the master who assumed to himself the glory of having taught him. On the present occasion John Eames wrote all his letters before he thought again of Lily Dale, and was able to write them without interruption, as the chairman was absent for the day at the Treasury--or perhaps at his club. Then, when he had finished, he rang his bell, and ordered some sherry and soda-water, and stretched himself before the fire--as though his exertions in the public service had been very great--and seated himself comfortably in his arm-chair, and lit a cigar, and again took out Lady Julia's letter.
As regarded the cigar, it may be said that both Sir Raffle and Mr Kissing had given orders that on no account should cigars be lit within the precincts of the Income-Tax Office. Mr Eames had taken upon himself to understand that such orders did not apply to a private secretary, and was well aware that Sir Raffle knew his habit. To Mr Kissing, I regret to say, he put himself in opposition whenever and wherever opposition was possible; so that men in the office said that one of the two must go at last. 'But Johnny can do anything, you know, because he has got money.' That was too frequently the opinion finally expressed among the men.
So John Eames sat down, and drank his soda-water, and smoked his cigar, and read his letter; or, rather, simply that paragraph of the letter which referred to Miss Dale. 'The tidings of her death have disturbed her, and set her thinking again of things that were fading from her mind.' He understood it all. And yet how could it possibly be so? How could it be that she should not despise a man--despise him if she did not hate him--who had behaved as this man had behaved to her? It was now
'I don't believe she'll say anything of the kind, Cradell. If I remember anything of her, she has a stouter heart than that.' Cradell admitted that his wife had a stouter heart than himself, and then made his way back to his own part of the office.
This little interruption to the current of Mr Eames's thoughts was, I think, good for the service, as immediately on his friend's departure he went to his work; whereas, had not he been called away from his reflections about Miss Dale, he would have sat thinking about her affairs probably for the rest of the morning. As it was, he really did write a dozen notes in answer to as many private letters addressed to his chief, Sir Raffle Buffle, in all of which he made excellently-worded false excuses for the non-performance of various requests made to Sir Raffle by the writers. 'He's about the best hand at it that I know,' said Sir Raffle, one day, to the secretary; 'otherwise you may be sure I shouldn't keep him here.' 'I will allow that he's clever,' said the secretary. 'It isn't cleverness, so much as tact. It's what I call tact. I hadn't been long in the service before I mastered it myself; and now that I've been at the trouble to teach him I don't want to have the trouble to teach another. But upon my word he must mind his p's and q's; upon my word, he must; and you had better tell him so.' 'The fact is, Mr Kissing,' said the private secretary the next day to the secretary--Mr Kissing was at that time secretary to the board of commissioners for the receipt of income tax--'the fact is, Mr Kissing, Sir Raffle should never attempt to write a letter himself. He doesn't know how to do it. He always says twice too much, and yet not half enough. I wish you'd tell him so. He won't believe me.' From which it will be seen Mr Eames was proud of his special accomplishment, but did not feel any gratitude to the master who assumed to himself the glory of having taught him. On the present occasion John Eames wrote all his letters before he thought again of Lily Dale, and was able to write them without interruption, as the chairman was absent for the day at the Treasury--or perhaps at his club. Then, when he had finished, he rang his bell, and ordered some sherry and soda-water, and stretched himself before the fire--as though his exertions in the public service had been very great--and seated himself comfortably in his arm-chair, and lit a cigar, and again took out Lady Julia's letter.
As regarded the cigar, it may be said that both Sir Raffle and Mr Kissing had given orders that on no account should cigars be lit within the precincts of the Income-Tax Office. Mr Eames had taken upon himself to understand that such orders did not apply to a private secretary, and was well aware that Sir Raffle knew his habit. To Mr Kissing, I regret to say, he put himself in opposition whenever and wherever opposition was possible; so that men in the office said that one of the two must go at last. 'But Johnny can do anything, you know, because he has got money.' That was too frequently the opinion finally expressed among the men.
So John Eames sat down, and drank his soda-water, and smoked his cigar, and read his letter; or, rather, simply that paragraph of the letter which referred to Miss Dale. 'The tidings of her death have disturbed her, and set her thinking again of things that were fading from her mind.' He understood it all. And yet how could it possibly be so? How could it be that she should not despise a man--despise him if she did not hate him--who had behaved as this man had behaved to her? It was now