onfidence he would have
shown to a real silk hat--for the applicant's was mere soft felt,
though it looked new, for that matter--and a real clean shirt, one
inclusive of its own collar and cuffs. Our friend's answered this
description; but then, it was blue. However, the confidence would
have wavered under an independent collar and wristbands. Cohesiveness
in such a garment means that its wearer may be an original genius:
compositeness may mean that he has to economize, like us.

"Did you expect it so early as this?" says the trustworthy young
gentleman, smiling sweetly through his spectacles. "It isn't ten
o'clock yet." But he only says this to show his confidence, don't you
see? Because his remark is in its nature meaningless, as there is
no time of day telegrams have a penchant for. No doubt there is a
time--perhaps even times and half-a-time--when you cannot send them.
But there is no time when they may not arrive. Except the smallest
hours of the morning, which are too small to count.

"I don't think I did," replies the applicant. "I don't think I thought
about it. I wired them yesterday from Liverpool, when I left the boat,
say four o'clock."

"Ah, then of course it's a little too early. It may not come till late
in the afternoon. It depends on the load on the wires. Could you call
in again--well, a little before our closing time?"

"All right." The speaker took out a little purse or pocket-book, and
looked in it. "I thought so," said he; "that was my last card." But
the clerk had left it in the inner sanctum. He would get it, and
disappeared to do so. When he came back with it, however, he found its
owner had gone, saying never mind, it didn't matter.

"Chap seems in a great hurry!" said he to his neighbour clerk. "What's
he got that great big ring on his thumb for?" And the other replying:
"Don't you know 'em--rheumatic rings?" he added: "Doesn't look a
rheumatic customer, anyhow!" And then both of them pinned up cheques,
and made double entries.

The chap didn't seem in a great hurry as he sauntered away along
Cornhill, looking in at the shop-windows. He gave the idea of a chap
with a fine June day before him in London, with a plethora of choices
of what to do and where to go. Also of being keenly interested in
everything, like a chap that had not been in London for a long time.
After watching the action of a noiseless new petroleum engine longer
than its monotonous idea of life seemed to warrant, he tol