ft even. Sir Raffle Buffle
had told me he was to go to the Income-tax Office. The chair is two
thousand there, you know; and I had been promised the first seat at
the Board."

"Ah;--I wish I'd known," said Crosbie.

"You are much better as you are," said Butterwell. "There's no
pleasure like a surprise! Besides, one knows a thing of that kind,
and yet doesn't know it. I don't mind saying now that I knew
it,--swearing that I knew it,--but I wouldn't have said so to a
living being the day before yesterday. There are such slips between
the cups and the lips. Suppose Sir Raffle had not gone to the
Income-tax!"

"Exactly so," said Crosbie.

"But it's all right now. Indeed I sat at the Board yesterday, though
I signed the letter afterwards. I'm not sure that I don't lose more
than I gain."

"What! with three hundred a year more and less work?"

"Ah, but look at the interest of the thing. The secretary sees
everything and knows everything. But I'm getting old, and, as you
say, the lighter work will suit me. By-the-by, will you come down to
Putney to-morrow? Mrs Butterwell will be delighted to see the new
secretary. There's nobody in town now, so you can have no ground for
refusing."

But Mr Crosbie did find some ground for refusing. It would have been
impossible for him to have sat and smiled at Mrs Butterwell's table
in his present frame of mind. In a mysterious, half-explanatory
manner, he let Mr Butterwell know that private affairs of importance
made it absolutely necessary that he should remain that evening in
town. "And indeed," as he said, "he was not his own master just
at present." "By-the-by,--of course not. I had quite forgotten to
congratulate you on that head. So you're going to be married? Well;
I'm very glad, and hope you'll be as lucky as I have been."

"Thank you," said Crosbie, again rather gloomily.

"A young lady from near Guestwick, isn't it; or somewhere in those
parts?"

"N--no," stammered Crosbie. "The lady comes from Barsetshire."

"Why, I heard the name. Isn't she a Bell, or Tait, or Ball, or some
such name as that?"

"No," said Crosbie, assuming what boldness he could command. "Her
name is de Courcy."

"One of the earl's daughters?"

"Yes," said Crosbie.

"Oh, I beg your pardon. I'd heard wrong. You're going to be allied
to a very noble family, and I am heartily glad to hear of your
success in life." Then Butterwell shook him very cordially by the
hand,--having offered him no su