They prate who say it is
success that tries a man. He flung himself at Mr. Labouchere's feet.

"Think of the public funeral," he cried.

His host seized the bell-rope and pulled it violently.

"If you will do it," said Andrew solemnly, "I promise to lay flowers on
your grave every day till I die."

"John," said Mr. Labouchere, "show this gentleman out."

Andrew rose.

"You refuse?" he asked.

"I do."

"You won't think it over? If I call again, say on Thursday--"

"John!" said Mr. Labouchere.

Andrew took up his hat. His host thought he had gone. But in the hall
his reflection in a looking-glass reminded the visitor of something.
He put his head in at the doorway again.

"Would you mind telling me," he said, "whether you see anything
peculiar about my neck?"

"It seems a good neck to twist," Mr. Labouchere answered, a little
savagely.

Andrew then withdrew.

CHAPTER VII

This unexpected rebuff from Mr. Labouchere rankled for many days in
Andrew's mind. Had he been proposing for the great statesman's hand he
could not have felt it more. Perhaps he did not make sufficient
allowance for Mr. Labouchere; it is always so easy to advise.

But to rage at a man (or woman) is the proof that we can adore them; it
is only his loved ones who infuriate a Scotchman.

There were moments when Andrew said to himself that he had nothing more
to live for.

Then he would upbraid himself for having gone about it too hurriedly,
and in bitter self-contempt strike his hand on the railings, as he
rushed by.

Work is the sovereign remedy for this unhealthy state of mind, and
fortunately Andrew had a great deal to do.

Gradually the wound healed, and he began to take an interest in Lord
Randolph Churchill.

Every day the Flying Scotchman shoots its refuse of clever young men
upon London who are too ambitious to do anything.

Andrew was not one of these.

Seeking to carry off one of the greatest prizes in his profession, he
had aimed too high for a beginner.

When he realised this he apprenticed himself, so to speak, to the
president, determined to acquire a practical knowledge of his art in
all its branches. Though a very young man, he had still much to learn.
It was only in his leisure moments that he gave way to dreams over a
_magnum opus_.

But when he did set about it, which must be before his period of
probation closed, he had made up his mind to be thorough.

The months thus passed quietly b