“Bad things, my friend,—bad things for any man, but especially for a poor one. I myself began life in an humble way,—true, I assure you; but with industry, zeal, and attention, I am what you see me.”
“That is encouraging, certainly,” said Conway, gravely.
“It is so, and I mention it for your advantage.”
Charles Conway now arose, and threw the half-smoked cigar into the fire. The movement betokened impatience, and, sooth to say, he was half angry with himself; for, while disposed to laugh at the vanity and conceit of the worthy butler, he still felt that he was his guest, and that such ridicule was ill applied to one whose salt he had eaten.
“You're not going without seeing him?” said Clowes. “He 's sure to be in before noon. We are to receive the Harbor Commissioners exactly at twelve.”
“I have a call to make, and at some distance off in the country, this morning.”
“Well, if I can be of any use to you, just tell me,” said Clowes, good-naturedly. “My position here—one of trust and confidence, you may imagine—gives me many an opportunity to serve a friend; and I like you. I was taken with your manner as you came into the hall this morning, and I said to myself, 'There 's good stuff in that young fellow, whoever he is.' And I ain't wrong. You have some blood in you, I'll be bound.”
“We used to be rather bumptious about family,” said Conway, laughing; “but I suspect the world has taught us to get rid of some of our conceit.”
“Never mind the world. Pride of birth is a generous prejudice. I have never forgotten that my grandfather, on the mother's side, was a drysalter. But can I be of any use to you? that's the question.”
“I 'm inclined to think not; though I 'm just as grateful to you. Mr. Dunn asked me here this morning, I suspect, to talk over the war with me. Men naturally incline to hear what an eyewitness has to say, and he may have fancied I could have mentioned some new fact, or suggested some new expedient, which in these days seems such a fashionable habit, when everybody has his advice to proffer.”