eat man of the occasion contented himself with holding
his hands up to the heavens as he stood up from his chair, and,
exclaiming twice, "Mis-sent the Monarch's pouch! Mis-sent the
Monarch's pouch!" That young man never knew how he escaped from the
Board-room; but for a time he was deprived of all power of exertion,
and could not resume his work till he had had six months' leave of
absence, and been brought round upon rum and asses' milk. In that
instance the peculiar use of the word Monarch had a power which the
official magnate had never contemplated. The story is traditional;
but I believe that the circumstance happened as lately as in the days
of George the Third.

John Eames could laugh at the present chairman of the Income-tax
Office with great freedom, and call him old Ruffle Scuffle and the
like; but now that he was sent for, he also, in spite of his radical
propensities, felt a little weak about his ankle joints. He knew,
from the first hearing of the message, that he was wanted with
reference to that affair at the railway station. Perhaps there might
be a rule that any clerk should be dismissed who used his fists in
any public place. There were many rules entailing the punishment
of dismissal for many offences,--and he began to think that he did
remember something of such a regulation. However he got up, looked
once round him upon his friends, and then followed Tupper into the
Board-room.

"There's Johnny been sent for by old Scuffles," said one clerk.

"That's about his row with Crosbie," said another. "The Board can't
do anything to him for that."

"Can't it?" said the first. "Didn't young Outonites have to resign
because of that row at the Cider Cellars though his cousin, Sir
Constant Outonites, did all that he could for him?"

"But he was regularly up the spout with accommodation bills."

"I tell you that I wouldn't be in Eames's shoes for a trifle. Crosbie
is secretary at the Committee Office where Scuffles was chairman
before he came here; and of course they're as thick as thieves. I
shouldn't wonder if they didn't make him go down and apologise."

"Johnny won't do that," said the other.

In the meantime John Eames was standing in the august presence. Sir
Raffle Buffle was throned in his great oak arm-chair at the head of
a long table in a very large room; and by him, at the corner of the
table, was seated one of the assistant secretaries of the office.
Another member of the Board was also at w