ntop was not destitute of the ambition of his time of life, and
yearned to be what he believed himself--something better than a clerk. If
he had put forth no effort to compose Mrs. Chump's letter, he would not
have felt that he was the partner of her stupidity; but he had
thoughtlessly attempted the impossible thing, and now, contemplating his
utter failure, he was in so low a state of mind that he would have taken
pen and written himself down, with ordinary honesty, good-for-nothing. He
returned to his task, and found the dinner spread. Mrs. Chump gave him
champagne, and drank to him, requesting him to challenge her. "We won't
be beaten," she said; and at least they dined.

The 'we' smote Braintop's swelling vanity. It signified an alliance, and
that they were yoked to a common difficulty.

"Oh! let's finish it and have it over," he remarked, with a complacent
roll in his chair.

"Naver stop a good impulse," said Mrs. Chump, herself removing the lamp
to light him.

Braintop sat in the chair of torture, and wrote flowingly, while his
taskmistress looked over him, "Ladies of Brookfield." He read it out:
"Ladies of Brookfield."

"I'll be vary happy to represent ye at the forthcomin' 'lection," Mrs.
Chump gave a continuation in his tone.

"Why, won't that do, ma'am?" Braintop asked in wonderment.

"Cap'tal for a circular, Mr. Braintop. And ye'll allow me to say that I
don't think ye've been to church at all."

This accusation containing a partial truth (that is, true if it referred
to the afternoon, but not as to the morning), it was necessary for
Braintop's self-vindication that he should feel angry. The two were very
soon recriminating, much in the manner of boy and girl shut up on a sunny
afternoon; after which they, in like manner, made it up--the fact of both
having a habit of consulting the glass, and the accident of their doing
it at the same time, causing an encounter of glances there that could
hardly fail to be succeeded by some affability. For a last effort, Mrs.
Chump laid before Braintop a prospect of advancement in his office, if he
so contrived as to write a letter that should land her in Brookfield
among a scourged, repentant, and forgiven people. That he might
understand the position, she went far modestly to reveal her weakness for
Mr. Pole. She even consented to let 'Ladies' be the opening apostrophe,
provided the word 'Young' went before it: "They'll feel that sting," she
said. Braintop stipula