"Let us hope that in the day of his prosperity the friends of his adversity will not be forgotten," said Nipper, who was one of the orators of the B. B.
"It is but a barren honor that he will come into," answered Fildew. "The title will be his, but the estates go elsewhere;" and nodding a curt "goodnight" to the auctioneer, he emptied his glass and left the room.
[CHAPTER III.]
NEGOTIATIONS.
Whether Mr. Fildew ever wrote that particular letter respecting which he spoke to Mr. Nipper is more than doubtful. Like many other men, he hated letter-writing, and it is possible that the incident in connection with Lord Loughton, to which he had seemed to attach so much importance when he first heard of it, may have assumed a different aspect when recalled to mind in the cool light of morning. In any case, there was no observable difference in his appearance or mode of life. He came and went, and smoked and drank, as heretofore only it might be that he was a little more particular in scanning the newspapers than he had previously been. At the end of a week his friend Nipper said to him, "I see that poor young fellow was buried yesterday."
"You mean Lord Loughton? Yes, I saw the account in this morning's paper."
"Written to your friend yet?"
"No. On second thoughts it seemed to me that it would be better to wait a few weeks before troubling him. He'll have enough to do and plenty to think of for a little while."
"Well, I wouldn't lose sight of him if I were you. It must be rather nice to be on nodding terms with an earl. Not that I should care about that sort of thing, you know," added Nipper, hastily. He had forgotten for the moment that he was in the habit of posing as a democrat. "And then"--with a glance at Fildew's threadbare coat and patched boots--"he might do something for you, you know: some snug little government sinecure, or something of that kind. There's lots of 'em knocking about."
Mr. Fildew laughed a little bitterly. "It may be all very well for me not to forget him, but he may not choose to remember me."