The hopes and
fears, the heartburnings and rivalries of such a state of things are
proverbial. Ashe wondered impatiently when the beastly business would be
over, and he could get off to Scotland for the air and sport of which he
was badly in need.

* * * * *

It was a Friday, in the first week of August. Ashe was leaving the
Athenaeum with another member of the House when a newspaper boy rushing
along with a fresh bundle of papers passed them with the cry, "New
cabinet complete! Official list!" They caught him up, snatched a paper,
and read. Two men of middle age, conspicuous in Parliament, but not
hitherto in office, one of them of great importance as a lawyer, the
other as a military critic, were appointed, the one to the Home Office,
the other to the Ministry of War; there had been some shuffling in the
minor offices, and a new Privy Seal had dawned upon the world. For the
rest, all was as before, and in the formal list the name of the
Honorable William Travers Ashe still remained attached to the
Under-Secretaryship for Foreign Affairs.

Ashe's friend shrugged his shoulders, and avoided looking at his
companion. "A bomb-shell, to begin with," he said; "otherwise the
flattest thing out."

"On the contrary," laughed Ashe. "Parham has shown a wonderful amount of
originality. If you and I are taken by surprise, what will the public
be? And they'll like him all the better--you'll see. He has shown
courage and gone for new men--that's what they'll say. <i>Vive</i> Parham!
Well, good-bye. Now, please the Lord, we shall get off--and I may be
among the grouse this day week."

He stopped on his way out of the club to discuss the list with the men
coming in. He was conscious that some would have avoided him. But he had
no mind to be avoided, and his caustic, good-humored talk carried off
the situation. Presently he was walking homeward, swinging his stick
with the gayety of a school-boy expecting the holidays.

As he mounted St. James's Street a carriage descended. Ashe mechanically
took off his hat to the half-recognized face within, and as he did so
perceived the icy bow and triumphant eyes of Lady Parham.

He hurried along, fighting a curious sensation, as of a physical
bruising and beating. The streets were full of the news, and he was
stopped many times by mere acquaintances to talk of it. In Savile Row he
turned into a small literary club of which he was a member, and wrote a
lette