“No, sir, it was not.”
“Well, with that I have no concern. All that I know is, your uncle is a man of a certain influence—at least with his own party—which is not ours. He is, besides, rich; an old bachelor, too, if I 'm not mistaken; and so it might be worth the while of a young fellow who has his way to make in life, to compromise a little of his family pride.”
“I don't think so: I won't do it,” broke in Tony, hotly. “If you have no other counsel to give me than one you never would have given to my father, all I have to say is, I wish I had spared myself the trouble, and my poor mother the cost of this journey.”
If the great man's wrath was moved by the insolent boldness of the first part of this speech, the vibrating voice and the emotion that accompanied the last words touched him, and, going over to where the young man stood, he laid his hand kindly on his shoulder, and said: “You'll have to keep this warm temper of yours in more subjection, Butler, if you want to get on in life. The advice I gave you was very worldly, perhaps; but when you live to be my age, such will be the temper in which you'll come to consider most things. And, after all,” said he, with a smile, “you 're only the more like your father for it! Go away now; look up your decimals, your school classics, and such like, to be ready for the Civil Service people, and come back here in a week or so,—let Darner know where to find you,” were the last words, as Tony retired and left the room.
“Well, what success?” cried Darner, as Tony entered his room.
“I can scarcely tell you, but this is what took place;” and he recounted, as well as memory would serve him, all that had happened.
“Then it's all right,—you are quite safe,” said Darner.
“I don't see that, particularly as there remains this examination.”
“Humbug,—nothing but humbug! They only pluck the 'swells,' the fellows who have taken a double-first at Oxford. No, no; you 're as safe as a church; you 'll get—let me see what it will be—you'll get the Postmaster-ship of the Bahamas; or be Deputy Coal-meter at St. Helena; or who knows if he'll not give you that thing he exchanged for t'other day with F. O. It's a Consul's place, at Trincolopolis. It was Cole of the Blues had it, and he died; and there are four widows of his now claiming the pension. Yes, that's where you 'll go, rely on't. There 's the bell again. Write your address large, very large, on that sheet of paper, and I 'll send you word when there 's anything up.”