the New Road, and
almost into the Regent's Park, thinking of Lily Dale and of his own
cowardice with Amelia Roper.

On the following morning he received a message, at about one o'clock,
by the mouth of the Board-room messenger, informing him that his
presence was required in the Board-room. "Sir Raffle Buffle has
desired your presence, Mr Eames."

"My presence, Tupper! what for?" said Johnny, turning upon the
messenger, almost with dismay.

"Indeed I can't say, Mr Eames; but Sir Raffle Buffle has desired your
presence in the Board-room."

Such a message as that in official life always strikes awe into the
heart of a young man. And yet, young men generally come forth from
such interviews without having received any serious damage, and
generally talk about the old gentlemen whom they have encountered
with a good deal of light-spirited sarcasm,--or chaff as it is called
in the slang phraseology of the day. It is that same "majesty which
doth hedge a king" that does it. The turkey-cock in his own farmyard
is master of the occasion, and the thought of him creates fear. A
bishop in his lawn, a judge on the bench, a chairman in the big room
at the end of a long table, or a policeman with his bull's-eye lamp
upon his beat, can all make themselves terrible by means of those
appanages of majesty which have been vouchsafed to them. But how mean
is the policeman in his own home, and how few thought much of Sir
Raffle Buffle as he sat asleep after dinner in his old slippers.
How well can I remember the terror created within me by the air of
outraged dignity with which a certain fine old gentleman, now long
since gone, could rub his hands slowly, one on the other, and look
up to the ceiling, slightly shaking his head, as though lost in the
contemplation of my iniquities! I would become sick in my stomach,
and feel as though my ankles had been broken. That upward turn of the
eye unmanned me so completely that I was speechless as regarded any
defence. I think that that old man could hardly have known the extent
of his own power.

Once upon a time a careless lad, having the charge of a bundle of
letters addressed to the King,--petitions, and such like, which
in the course of business would not get beyond the hands of some
Lord-in-waiting's deputy assistant,--sent the bag which contained
them to the wrong place; to Windsor perhaps, if the Court were in
London; or to St. James's, if it were at Windsor. He was summoned;
and the gr