"Are you indeed?" said Mrs. Low,—who knew his age to a day. "How the time passes. I'm sure I hope you'll get on, Mr. Finn. I do indeed."
"I am sure he will, if he puts his shoulder to it," said Mr. Low.
Neither the lawyer nor his wife repeated any of those sententious admonitions, which had almost become rebukes, and which had been so common in their mouths. The fall with which they had threatened Phineas Finn had come upon him, and they were too generous to remind him of their wisdom and sagacity. Indeed, when he got up to take his leave, Mrs. Low, who probably might not see him again for years, was quite affectionate in her manners to him, and looked as if she were almost minded to kiss him as she pressed his hand. "We will come and see you," she said, "when you are Master of the Rolls in Dublin."
"We shall see him before then thundering at us poor Tories in the House," said Mr. Low. "He will be back again sooner or later." And so they parted.
CHAPTER LXXV
P. P. C.
On the Thursday morning before Phineas went to Mr. Monk, a gentleman called upon him at his lodgings. Phineas requested the servant to bring up the gentleman's name, but tempted perhaps by a shilling the girl brought up the gentleman instead. It was Mr. Quintus Slide from the office of the "Banner of the People."
"Mr. Finn," said Quintus, with his hand extended, "I have come to offer you the calumet of peace." Phineas certainly desired no such calumet. But to refuse a man's hand is to declare active war after a fashion which men do not like to adopt except on deliberation. He had never cared a straw for the abuse which Mr. Slide had poured upon him, and now he gave his hand to the man of letters. But he did not sit down, nor did he offer a seat to Mr. Slide. "I know that as a man of sense who knows the world, you will accept the calumet of peace," continued Mr. Slide.
"I don't know why I should be asked particularly to accept war or peace," said Phineas.