‘Go on to the next one, my dear Pugstyles,’ said Mr. Gregsbury.
‘Have you any explanation to offer with reference to that question, sir?’ asked Mr. Pugstyles.
‘Certainly not,’ said Mr. Gregsbury.
The members of the deputation looked fiercely at each other, and afterwards at the member. ‘Dear Pugstyles’ having taken a very long stare at Mr. Gregsbury over the tops of his spectacles, resumed his list of inquiries.
‘Question number two.—Whether, sir, you did not likewise give a voluntary pledge that you would support your colleague on every occasion; and whether you did not, the night before last, desert him and vote upon the other side, because the wife of a leader on that other side had invited Mrs. Gregsbury to an evening party?’
‘Go on,’ said Mr. Gregsbury.
‘Nothing to say on that, either, sir?’ asked the spokesman.
‘Nothing whatever,’ replied Mr. Gregsbury. The deputation, who had only seen him at canvassing or election time, were struck dumb by his coolness. He didn’t appear like the same man; then he was all milk and honey; now he was all starch and vinegar. But men are so different at different times!
‘Question number three—and last,’ said Mr. Pugstyles, emphatically. ‘Whether, sir, you did not state upon the hustings, that it was your firm and determined intention to oppose everything proposed; to divide the house upon every question, to move for returns on every subject, to place a motion on the books every day, and, in short, in your own memorable words, to play the very devil with everything and everybody?’ With this comprehensive inquiry, Mr. Pugstyles folded up his list of questions, as did all his backers.
Mr. Gregsbury reflected, blew his nose, threw himself further back in his chair, came forward again, leaning his elbows on the table, made a triangle with his two thumbs and his two forefingers, and tapping his nose with the apex thereof, replied (smiling as he said it), ‘I deny everything.’
At this unexpected answer, a hoarse murmur arose from the deputation; and the same gentleman who had expressed an opinion relative to the gammoning nature of the introductory speech, again made a monosyllabic demonstration, by growling out ‘Resign!’ Which growl being taken up by his fellows, swelled into a very earnest and general remonstrance.
‘I am requested, sir, to express a hope,’ said Mr. Pugstyles, with a distant bow, ‘that on receiving a requisition to that effect from a great majority of your constituents, you will not object at once to resign your seat in favour of some candidate whom they think they can better trust.’
To this, Mr. Gregsbury read the following reply, which, anticipating the request, he had composed in the form of a letter, whereof copies had been made to send round to the newspapers.
‘My Dear Mr Pugstyles,
‘Next to the welfare of our beloved island—this great and free and happy country, whose powers and resources are, I sincerely believe, illimitable—I value that noble independence which is an Englishman’s proudest boast, and which I fondly hope to bequeath to my children, untarnished and unsullied. Actuated by no personal motives, but moved only by high and great constitutional considerations; which I will not attempt to explain, for they are really beneath the comprehension of those who have not made themselves masters, as I have, of the intricate and arduous study of politics; I would rather keep my seat, and intend doing so.
‘Will you do me the favour to present my compliments to the constituent body, and acquaint them with this circumstance?
‘With great esteem, ‘My dear Mr. Pugstyles, ‘&c.&c.’
‘Then you will not resign, under any circumstances?’ asked the spokesman.
Mr. Gregsbury smiled, and shook his head.
‘Then, good-morning, sir,’ said Pugstyles, angrily.
‘Heaven bless you!’ said Mr. Gregsbury. And the deputation, with many growls and scowls, filed off as quickly as the narrowness of the staircase would allow of their getting down.
The last man being gone, Mr. Gregsbury rubbed his hands and chuckled, as merry fellows will, when they think they have said or done a more than commonly good thing; he was so engrossed in this self-congratulation, that he did not observe that Nicholas had been left behind in the shadow of the window-curtains, until that young gentleman, fearing he might otherwise overhear some soliloquy intended to have no listeners, coughed twice or thrice, to attract the member’s notice.
‘What’s that?’ said Mr. Gregsbury, in sharp accents.
Nicholas stepped forward, and bowed.
‘What do you do here, sir?’ asked Mr. Gregsbury; ‘a spy upon my privacy! A concealed voter! You have heard my answer, sir. Pray follow the deputation.’
‘I should have done so, if I had belonged to it, but I do not,’ said Nicholas.
‘Then how came you here, sir?’ was the natural inquiry of Mr. Gregsbury, MP. ‘And where the devil have you come from, sir?’ was the question which followed it.
‘I brought this card from the General Agency Office, sir,’ said Nicholas, ‘wishing to offer myself as your secretary, and understanding that you stood in need of one.’
‘That’s all you have come for, is it?’ said Mr. Gregsbury, eyeing him in some doubt.
Nicholas replied in the affirmative.
‘You have no connection with any of those rascally papers have you?’ said Mr. Gregsbury. ‘You didn’t get into the room, to hear what was going forward, and put it in print, eh?’
‘I have no connection, I am sorry to say, with anything at present,’ rejoined Nicholas,—politely enough, but quite at his ease.
‘Oh!’ said Mr. Gregsbury. ‘How did you find your way up here, then?’
Nicholas related how he had been forced up by the deputation.
‘That was the way, was it?’ said Mr. Gregsbury. ‘Sit down.’
Nicholas took a chair, and Mr. Gregsbury stared at him for a long time, as if to make certain, before he asked any further questions, that there were no objections to his outward appearance.
‘You want to be my secretary, do you?’ he said at length.
‘I wish to be employed in that capacity, sir,’ replied Nicholas.
‘Well,’ said Mr. Gregsbury; ‘now what can you do?’
‘I suppose,’ replied Nicholas, smiling, ‘that I can do what usually falls to the lot of other secretaries.’
‘What’s that?’ inquired Mr. Gregsbury.
‘What is it?’ replied Nicholas.
‘Ah! What is it?’ retorted the member, looking shrewdly at him, with his head on one side.
‘A secretary’s duties are rather difficult to define, perhaps,’ said Nicholas, considering. ‘They include, I presume, correspondence?’
‘Good,’ interposed Mr. Gregsbury.
‘The arrangement of papers and documents?’
‘Very good.’
‘Occasionally, perhaps, the writing from your dictation; and possibly, sir,’ said Nicholas, with a half-smile, ‘the copying of your speech for some public journal, when you have made one of more than usual importance.’
‘Certainly,’ rejoined Mr. Gregsbury. ‘What else?’
‘Really,’