"They'll like the book better than any thing else," said Warrington, "with the young one's name to the verses, printed among the swells."
"Thank God! thank God!" cried Arthur, "I needn't be a charge upon the old mother. I can pay off Laura now. I can get my own living. I can make my own way."
"I can marry the grand vizier's daughter; I can purchase a house in Belgrave Square; I can build a fine castle in the air!" said Warrington, pleased with the other's exultation. "Well, you may get bread and cheese, Pen: and I own it tastes well, the bread which you earn yourself."
They had a magnum of claret at dinner at the club that day, at Pen's charges. It was long since he had indulged in such a luxury, but Warrington would not balk him; and they drank together to the health of the Spring Annual.
It never rains but it pours, according to the proverb; so very speedily another chance occurred, by which Mr. Pen was to be helped in his scheme of making a livelihood. Warrington one day threw him a letter across the table, which was brought by a printer's boy, "from Captain Shandon, sir"—the little emissary said: and then went and fell asleep on his accustomed bench in the passage. He paid many a subsequent visit there, and brought many a message to Pen.
"F. P. Tuesday Morning.
"My Dear Sir,
"Bungay will be here to-day about the 'Pall-Mall Gazette.' You would be the very man to help us with a genuine West-end article—you understand—dashing, trenchant, and d—— aristocratic. Lady Hipshaw will write; but she's not much, you know; and we've two lords, but the less they do the better. We must have you. We'll give you your own terms, and we'll make a hit with the 'Gazette.'
"Shall B. come and see you, or can you look in upon me here?
"Ever yours,
"C. S."