The Small House at Allington, Anthony Trollope [best ebook reader for chromebook .txt] 📗

I believe the indexes, on the whole, are very well done in this room. Some people don’t know how to find letters.”

“Mr. Eames,” began Mr. Kissing, still pointing with a finger of bitter reproach to the misused S, and beginning an oration which was intended for the benefit of the whole room, and for the annihilation of old Mr. Love, “if you have yet to learn that the word Admiralty begins with A and not with S, you have much to learn which should have been acquired before you first came into this office. Somerset House is not a department.” Then he turned round to the room at large, and repeated the last words, as though they might become very useful if taken well to heart⁠—“Is not a department. The Treasury is a department; the Home Office is a department; the India Board is a department⁠—”

“No, Mr. Kissing, it isn’t,” said a young clerk from the other end of the room.

“You know very well what I mean, sir. The India Office is a department.”

“There’s no Board, sir.”

“Never mind; but how any gentleman who has been in the service three months⁠—not to say three years⁠—can suppose Somerset House to be a department, is beyond my comprehension. If you have been improperly instructed⁠—”

“We shall know all about it another time,” said Eames. “Mr. Love will make a memorandum of it.”

“I shan’t do anything of the kind,” said Mr. Love.

“If you have been wrongly instructed⁠—” Mr. Kissing began again, stealing a glance at Mr. Love as he did so; but at this moment the door was again opened, and a messenger summoned Johnny to the presence of the really great man. “Mr. Eames, to wait upon Sir Raffle.” Upon hearing this Johnny immediately started, and left Mr. Kissing and the big book in possession of his desk. How the battle was waged, and how it raged in the large room, we cannot stop to hear, as it is necessary that we should follow our hero into the presence of Sir Raffle Buffle.

“Ah, Eames⁠—yes,” said Sir Raffle, looking up from his desk when the young man entered; “just wait half a minute, will you?” And the knight went to work at his papers, as though fearing that any delay in what he was doing might be very prejudicial to the nation at large. “Ah, Eames⁠—well⁠—yes,” he said again, as he pushed away from him, almost with a jerk, the papers on which he had been writing. “They tell me that you know the business of this office pretty well.”

“Some of it, sir,” said Eames.

“Well, yes; some of it. But you’ll have to understand the whole of it if you come to me. And you must be very sharp about it too. You know that FitzHoward is leaving me?”

“I have heard of it, sir.”

“A very excellent young man, though perhaps not⁠—But we won’t mind that. The work is a little too much for him, and he’s going back into the office. I believe Lord De Guest is a friend of yours; isn’t he?”

“Yes; he is a friend of mine, certainly. He’s been very kind to me.”

“Ah, well. I’ve known the earl for many years⁠—for very many years; and intimately at one time. Perhaps you may have heard him mention my name?”

“Yes, I have, Sir Raffle.”

“We were intimate once, but those things go off, you know. He’s been the country mouse and I’ve been the town mouse. Ha, ha, ha! You may tell him that I say so. He won’t mind that coming from me.”

“Oh, no; not at all,” said Eames.

“Mind you tell him when you see him. The earl is a man for whom I’ve always had a great respect⁠—a very great respect⁠—I may say regard. And now, Eames, what do you say to taking FitzHoward’s place? The work is hard. It is fair that I should tell you that. The work will, no doubt, be very hard. I take a greater share of what’s going than my predecessors have done; and I don’t mind telling you that I have been sent here, because a man was wanted who would do that.” The voice of Sir Raffle, as he continued, became more and more harsh, and Eames began to think how wise FitzHoward had been. “I mean to do my duty, and I shall expect that my private secretary will do his. But, Mr. Eames, I never forget a man. Whether he be good or bad, I never forget a man. You don’t dislike late hours, I suppose.”

“Coming late to the office, you mean? Oh, no, not in the least.”

“Staying late⁠—staying late. Six or seven o’clock if necessary⁠—putting your shoulder to the wheel when the coach gets into the mud. That’s what I’ve been doing all my life. They’ve known what I am very well. They’ve always kept me for the heavy roads. If they paid, in the Civil Service, by the hour, I believe I should have drawn a larger income than any man in it. If you take the vacant chair in the next room you’ll find it’s no joke. It’s only fair that I should tell you that.”

“I can work as hard as any man,” said Eames.

“That’s right. That’s right. Stick to that and I’ll stick to you. It will be a great gratification to me to have by me a friend of my old friend De Guest. Tell him I say so. And now you may as well get into harness at once. FitzHoward is there. You can go in to him, and at half-past four exactly I’ll see you both. I’m very exact, mind⁠—very;⁠—and therefore you must be exact.” Then Sir Raffle looked as though he desired to be left alone.

“Sir Raffle, there’s one favour I want to ask of you,” said Johnny.

“And what’s that?”

“I am most anxious to be absent for a fortnight or three weeks, just at Easter. I shall want to go in about ten days.”

“Absent for three weeks at Easter, when the parliamentary work is beginning! That won’t do for a private secretary.”

“But it’s very important, Sir