"You are getting generous all at once, Peter; I should not begrudge him the privilege."
"Well, then, I don't," replied Peter, after a moment's reflection. "Let him keep them; he owes it to them."
"It is time for me to be at my office, Peter; so good bye," said Jacob, rising to leave.
"Remember Monroe," said Peter.
"Oh, I'll see to that," said Jacob, as he went out.
So are the "ropes" laid, as per the rule of things, to further the ends of the men who neither toil nor spin. Were the dear people less disposed to supine indifference toward their public officials, the government of our country would be as perfect, no doubt, as that of the fabled Utopia.
CHAPTER XIV.
JOHN WINTHROPE IS SURROUNDED BY PERPLEXITIES.
The morbidly silent Monroe went about his duties with the serenity of a cat out on a dark night. The immobility of his starched face left no impression on the beholder of it as to whether he could be successfully punctured with the light of pleasantry. His feline movements from office to office among the clerical force cast an uncanny glamour over them all; and when not in the act of always appearing to be ready to make a spring upon them, as he glided whisperingly through the aisles of desks and high stands, he would be sitting at his own desk, in a corner of his private room, scanning sheet after sheet of reports and balances, and running over leaf after leaf of notations that had been left on his spindle for his especial perusal.