cial called at the chemist's shop. The
interview was unpleasant. It happened that Mr. Farmiloe (not for the first
time) had just then allowed himself to run out of certain things always in
demand by the public--halfpenny stamps, for instance. Moreover, his
accounts were not in perfect order. This, he had to hear, was emphatically
unbusinesslike, and, in brief, would not do.

'It shall not occur again, sir,' mumbled the unhappy man. 'But, if you
consider my position--'

'Mr. Farmiloe, allow me to tell you that this is a matter for your _own_
consideration, and no one else's.'

'True, sir, quite true. Still, when you come to think of it--I assure
you--'

'The only assurance I want is that the business of the post-office will be
properly attended to, and that assurance I must have. I shall probably call
again before long. Good morning.'

It was always with a savage satisfaction that Mr. Farmiloe heard the clock
strike eight on Saturday evening. His shop remained open till ten, but at
eight came the end of the post-office business. If, as happened, any one
entered five minutes too late, it delighted him to refuse their request.
These were the only moments in which he felt himself a free man. After
eating his poor supper, he smoked a pipe or two of cheap tobacco, brooding;
or he fingered the pages of his menacing account-books; or, very rarely, he
walked about the dark country roads, asking himself, with many a
tragi-comic gesture and ejaculation, why he could not get on like other
men.

One afternoon it seemed that he, at length, had his chance. There entered a
maidservant with a prescription to be made up and sent as soon as possible.
A glance at the name delighted Mr. Farmiloe; it was that of the richest
family in the suburbs. The medicine, to be sure, was only for a governess,
but his existence was recognised, and the patronage of such people would do
him good. But for the never-sufficiently-to-be-condemned handwriting of Dr.
Bunker, the prescription offered no difficulty. Rubbing his palms together,
and smiling as he seldom smiled, he told the domestic that the medicine
should be delivered in less than half an hour.

Scarcely had he begun upon it, when a lady came in, a lady whom he knew
well. Her business was at the post-office side, and she looked a peremptory
demand for his attention. Inwardly furious, he crossed the shop.

'Be so good as to tell me what this will cost by book-post.'

It seemed to be a pamp