s command, let the consequences be what they might. When
he did refuse, Mr. Kennedy would assume a look of displeasure and
leave him, and Phineas would hope that the work was done. Then there
would come another encounter, and the invitation would be repeated.
At last, about the middle of May, there came another note. "Dear
Finn, will you dine with us on Wednesday, the 28th? I give you a long
notice, because you seem to have so many appointments. Yours always,
Robert Kennedy." He had no alternative. He must refuse, even though
double the notice had been given. He could only think that Mr.
Kennedy was a very obtuse man and one who would not take a hint,
and hope that he might succeed at last. So he wrote an answer, not
intended to be conciliatory. "My dear Kennedy, I am sorry to say that
I am engaged on the 28th. Yours always, Phineas Finn." At this period
he did his best to keep out of Mr. Kennedy's way, and would be very
cunning in his manoeuvres that they should not be alone together.
It was difficult, as they sat on the same bench in the House,
and consequently saw each other almost every day of their lives.
Nevertheless, he thought that with a little cunning he might prevail,
especially as he was not unwilling to give so much of offence as
might assist his own object. But when Mr. Kennedy called upon him at
his office the day after he had written the above note, he had no
means of escape.

"I am sorry you cannot come to us on the 28th," Mr. Kennedy said, as
soon as he was seated.

Phineas was taken so much by surprise that all his cunning failed
him. "Well, yes," said he; "I was very sorry;--very sorry indeed."

"It seems to me, Finn, that you have had some reason for avoiding me
of late. I do not know that I have done anything to offend you."

"Nothing on earth," said Phineas.

"I am wrong, then, in supposing that anything beyond mere chance has
prevented you from coming to my house?" Phineas felt that he was in
a terrible difficulty, and he felt also that he was being rather
ill-used in being thus cross-examined as to his reasons for not going
to a gentleman's dinner. He thought that a man ought to be allowed
to choose where he would go and where he would not go, and that
questions such as these were very uncommon. Mr. Kennedy was sitting
opposite to him, looking more grave and more sour than usual;--and
now his own countenance also became a little solemn. It was
impossible that he should use Lady Laura's nam