Representatives of the public. Yes, I know," said the Premier with a disdainful laugh. "Pothouse journalists! And what in Heaven's name can they find to say?"

"Why, that the Constitution demands that the two offices should be separate, because in all important matters the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs should consult and should defer to the Head of the Government."

"Well, it seems to me that there's no danger of that article being violated now that Mountchapel's gone," replied Floppington sharply; "I can't act without consulting myself, can I?"

Tremaine dared not say more. He changed the subject. "By-the-by," he cried, "I had almost forgotten. There's a letter from Ponsonby grumbling about the delay in selecting the new Mistress of the Robes."

"Bother the new Mistress of the Robes and her mistress too!" cried the Premier irritably. "As if I haven't got enough trouble with her reports! These humbugging little appointments are enough to drive a man mad. If it wasn't for the pleasure of having these big pots under one's thumb," he muttered to himself, "I'd chuck the blooming thing up in disgust. But after all, they come in very handy at a crisis like this."

This last reflection was not uncalled for. Indeed, he intended to leave no stone unturned to secure the second reading of his Bill, and the passing of his measures generally. During the whole of his term of office he was an ever-spouting fount of honour, ejecting profuse side-streams of stars and ribbons, of Commissionerships and Colonial Governorships, together with smaller jets of baronetages and peerages, while a great shining central column dashed its spray to the skies, fascinating the heaven-seeking gaze of devout Churchmen. It is not every Prime Minister who is lucky enough to be able to keep this glittering central jet at work, as its subterranean machinery is only kept in order by the breaking down of other mechanisms.

Sir Archibald Alison wrote many ponderous volumes to prove the first half of Rockington's epigram-that Providence was on the side of the Tories; but an unbelieving generation had grown up who knew not Alison, and were consequently ignorant of the political leanings of Providence. To them, this great truth must have been brought home by the amount of ecclesiastical patronage that fell to the share of Floppington. His opponents had been in office a long time before an adverse division in the House and in their own ranks had compelled them to retire to the cool shades of opposition. During that period it was noticeable that the Bishops were given to flying irreverently in the face of the Psalmist's statistics of mortality. They went on clinging to the Church long after they were able to enter one unaided, the props of the Church being themselves in need of propping; while as to minor dignitaries, it was noticed that the Canons, being of Government manufacture, did not go off; and the Deans must have considerably increased the dividends of the insurance companies.

This was very sad. Liberal Churchmen were getting tired of waiting, forgetting that they also serve who only stand and wait. But no sooner had the Liberals gone out and the Conservatives come in, than all was changed. It is true that in the early months of the new Ministry things ecclesiastical went on as usual. Nature does not make changes by leaps. But when the English summer came, then, as the Member for Queeropolis brutally put it, the ecclesiastics migrated in shoals to a warmer clime; and Floppington found himself with quite a plethora of patronage at his disposal. The party enjoyed it, without a doubt; but Floppington did not. The many rival claims he had to dispose of as each piece of preferment fell vacant worried him. He seemed to have the great drawback to a man in authority of being conscientious. Perhaps he had an exaggerated idea as to the duties and qualifications of a bishop or a dean; but certainly he could not be brought by his supporters to see that being the second cousin of a duke who had subscribed liberally to the election fund at the Carlton, gave a man a prima facie right to a bishopric or a deanery. "A man should have something of the apostolic spirit," he said to Tremaine; and he shook his head in a dissatisfied way when that gentleman calmly replied: "Quite so; but it's as easy to find it in the second cousin of a staunch Tory as anywhere else, especially if you look for it." Still, on the whole, he managed fairly well; though when he conferred an important appointment on a Radical, his supporters felt dissatisfied. They thought that when Providence showed such an evident desire to be saved by Tory Ministers, it bordered on blasphemy to refuse to gratify it. But then Floppington got a good deal of praise for his impartiality, which consoled him and pleased the party. They felt it a great thing to be led by a man who could rise superior to mere considerations of party, provided he didn't rise too frequently.

But much of this impartiality was yet to vent itself. Up to the present period of our history he had done little to earn the ingratitude of the receivers of his patronage. But now the news that Lord Bardolph Mountchapel was organising a faction against him reminded him afresh of the necessity of looking after, if not exactly the waverers, yet their brothers, and their cousins, and their uncles. It struck him that the few hours which would elapse before he went down to the House could not be better employed than in going over his lists of appointments and applicants, the latter known to him in ways ranging through infinitely subtle gradations from direct demand to indirect refusal.

He whistled occasionally as he went on, but not from want of thought. Now and then he dictated a letter to Tremaine, or gave him a rough draft which was passed on to the assistant secretaries in an adjoining room.

"It's awfully hot," said Floppington, pausing "I think I could work better without my coat." and slung it carelessly over the back of a chair. men work in their shirt-sleeves in this weather. ditto."

for an instant. He took it off, "All real working You'd better do

"I'm not very hot," said Tremaine, smiling. "If a national crisis should arise now, you would be found somewhat like Cincinnatus."

"Except that I should be a dictator already," replied the Premier with a hearty laugh. "I wonder how many people in England would accept a Garter on condition of wearing the full robes in addition to their ordinary clothing all through the Dog Days."

"Let me see," mused the secretary. of England is twelve millions."

"The male population

Mostly fools," added the Premier laughingly. "Well, I dare say you're right. Anyhow, the male population serves to recruit the Upper House, whither Blenkinsop will appropriately lead the way. You know his mania for shaking hands with real live lords. Well, he will soon be able to gratify it by shaking himself by the hand from early morn till late eve."

"Blenkinsop to receive a peerage!" cried the secretary, in one of those fits of irrepressible surprise for which he had just been reproached. "Blenkinsop!"

“I don't see why he should be debarred from the honour," the Premier answered with comic indignation. "He's done nothing!" Tremaine smiled faintly. No, indeed," he said. "He hasn't even made himself obnoxious."

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"If promotions were made on the principle of rewarding obnoxiousness," replied the Premier reflectively, "what did not

the Parnellites deserve at the hands of the late Government ? ” 66 They would deserve the same from any Government. It becomes increasingly plain every day that they vote against any English Ministry whatever its creed. Mr. Parnell will probably be known in history by a name analogous to Warwick's-the MinistryMaker or, better still, the Ministry-Breaker."

The Premier was surveying his confidential secretary with an amused smile.

"Never prophesy unless you know," he said, with bantering condescension. "As a matter of fact the Parnellites, after having shown themselves the truest friends of the Conservatives by voting with them against Female Suffrage and bringing them into power, will now, by remaining staunch and voting with them for it, keep them in power."

Tremaine's expression of utter amazement sent Floppington into fits of laughter. After a moment the secretary's face took on a sympathetic radiance. The conviction of victory with which his whole being had momentarily vibrated at the "I shall triumph" of Floppington, again penetrated his soul, but this time the impression was calmer and more likely to last.

Book FD.

CHAPTER I.

SALLY AND THE PAINTER GO THROUGH PERILS TOGETHER.

ACK DAWE did not take the pill his mother recommended, and his mental atmosphere continued overcast by the November fog of pessimism. He walked about listlessly for days, with the aspect-but not, alas, with the unconsciousness of a somnambulist. As, with haggard and feverish looks, he stalked aimlessly along the squalid regions, he might well have seemed their soul of misery incarnate. Sleep received him grudgingly, and regaled him with visions of Eliza, who alternately shrivelled him up with the scornful fire of her fierce black eyes, and maddened him with the tender dialect of the nursery. Of that other face, with the dreamy gray eyes—which the humble painter had probably first caught sight of in a box at the Lyceum-Somnus vouchsafed not a glimpse; a fit punishment for his infidelity to Eliza and his presumption in looking so high. A cat may look at a king, and a painter at an heiress; but only to paint her, bien entendu. When morning came he rejoiced that night was gone; when evening came he was glad that it was near. Coming down in his slippers one morning to breakfast, he found, to his surprise, everything dark. A few rays of sunlight stealing through chinks in the parlour-shutters showed that outside it was day, though they did not diminish the obscurity.

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"It is perhaps thus with the few gleams of intuition which traverse the darkness of the spirit," mused Jack, softly descending the last stair. They do not dispel it, but point, maybe, to a great Source of Light somewhere. Or," he added, with a melancholy smile," these rays resemble the glittering speeches of my early days, which were more concerned to prove the brilliancy of their source than to light up the questions at issue."

He threw open the shutters, and hearing a scampering of tiny feet, he turned round in time to see the "vanishing point" of a tail.

"At least," he muttered, "I have not skulked into a hole, fearing the light of Truth. Steady, my child, steady!"

The last remark was prompted by a bound into the parlour that made the stuffed birds tremble on their perches, and Mrs. Dawe and her late husband clatter ominously against the green and gold wall. Sally, slipshod, with defiant, unwashed face, dishevelled hair, grimy, turned-up nose, and panting bosom, almost fell into his arms, unable to recover herself after clearing three stairs at a jump.

"I don't care,” cried Sally breathlessly. “I wish it was twelve o'clock instead of nine; and a jolly good job too!"

"Have you overslept yourself?" asked Jack mildly.

"What rot! Overslept myself, indeed! No, it's all over my dreams which was 'strordinary long, that's all." "Your dreams! And what are they about? with amused interest.

Jack inquired "You!" Sally jerked out with a sullen, defiant bluntness. "Me!" said Jack, smiling. "Why, my good girl, what can you dream about me?"

"Don't call me a good girl, 'cos I ain't," returned Sally snappishly. "Lately you've been that gentle with me that I can't bear it no longer. You never used to speak a good word for me with the old 'un before, or say 'Thanky' when I brings yer yer boots, as if I was a borned lady, and you'll have to drop it; d'yer?"

Her indignation brought tears into her eyes.

"My dear child," said Jack, who stood amazed before this singular outburst, "whatever has put such ridiculous ideas into your head?"

"Dunno. P'raps they growed overnight." In spite of the hard sullenness of the tone, her voice trembled a little.

"Then you had ridiculous dreams. All dreams are nonsense, you foolish girl!"

"This wasn't no nonsense, and I'd dream it again if I 'ad the chance. You see this 'ere pin.'

"Yes," said Jack, looking curiously at a long white pin, which Sally had extracted from the bosom of her dress.

"Oh my, didn't she scream!" cried Sally voluptuously. "Who?"

"Why, 'er."

"Eliza? You pricked Eliza !"

"Pricked ain't the word. You see, she was sittin' with you on this 'ere sophy with 'er arm round your neck, and as I was in the yard a-cleanin' the knives and forks I 'eard 'er a-spoonin' through the open window, and all at once I takes out this 'ere pin and runs it right into 'er shoulder. She give such a screech I woke up in a fright; and when I looked out of a window and see Tim Popper playin' 'is whistle and carryin' 'is books, I knowed it was nine o'clock, and I rushed down."

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But, my dear child, you acted very wrongly in wounding an innocent young woman for no reason whatever."

Oh, go it, I knowed you'd take 'er part."

"But just consider the question logically. You should not be cruel, even in dreams

"