In the evening Carrie sent round for dear old friend Cummings and his wife, and also to Gowing.  We all sat round the fire, and in a bottle of “Jackson Freres,” which Sarah fetched from the grocer’s, drank Lupin’s health.  I lay awake for hours, thinking of the future.  My boy in the same office as myself—­we can go down together by the ’bus, come home together, and who knows but in the course of time he may take great interest in our little home.  That he may help me to put a nail in here or a nail in there, or help his dear mother to hang a picture.  In the summer he may help us in our little garden with the flowers, and assist us to paint the stands and pots. (By-the-by, I must get in some more enamel paint.) All this I thought over and over again, and a thousand happy thoughts beside.  I heard the clock strike four, and soon after fell asleep, only to dream of three happy people—­Lupin, dear Carrie, and myself.

CHAPTER XVIII

Trouble with a stylographic pen.  We go to a Volunteer Ball, where I am let in for an expensive supper.  Grossly insulted by a cabman.  An odd invitation to Southend.

April 8.—­No events of any importance, except that Gowing strongly recommended a new patent stylographic pen, which cost me nine-and-sixpence, and which was simply nine-and-sixpence thrown in the mud.  It has caused me constant annoyance and irritability of temper.  The ink oozes out of the top, making a mess on my hands, and once at the office when I was knocking the palm of my hand on the desk to jerk the ink down, Mr. Perkupp, who had just entered, called out:  “Stop that knocking!  I suppose that is you, Mr. Pitt?” That young monkey, Pitt, took a malicious glee in responding quite loudly:  “No, sir; I beg pardon, it is Mr. Pooter with his pen; it has been going on all the morning.”  To make matters worse, I saw Lupin laughing behind his desk.  I thought it wiser to say nothing.  I took the pen back to the shop and asked them if they would take it back, as it did not act.  I did not expect the full price returned, but was willing to take half.  The man said he could not do that—­buying and selling were two different things.  Lupin’s conduct during the period he has been in Mr. Perkupp’s office has been most exemplary.  My only fear is, it is too good to last.

April 9.—­Gowing called, bringing with him an invitation for Carrie and myself to a ball given by the East Acton Rifle Brigade, which he thought would be a swell affair, as the member for East Acton (Sir William Grime) had promised his patronage.  We accepted of his kindness, and he stayed to supper, an occasion I thought suitable for trying a bottle of the sparkling Algera that Mr. James (of Sutton) had sent as a present.  Gowing sipped the wine, observing that he had never tasted it before, and further remarked that his policy was to stick to more recognised brands.  I told him it was a present from a dear friend, and one mustn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.  Gowing facetiously replied:  “And he didn’t like putting it in the mouth either.”