In about twenty minutes he went out into the sitting-room, with his slippers on and in his dressing-gown.  Suffering under the circumstances of such an emergency, how is any man to go through the work of dressing and washing with proper exactness?  As to the prayers which he said on that morning, I think that no question should be asked.  He came out with a black cloud on his brow, and with his mind half made up to kick Mr. Clarkson out of the room.  Mr. Clarkson, when he saw him, moved his chin round within his white cravat, as was a custom with him, and put his thumb and forefinger on his lips, and then shook his head.

“Very bad, Mr. Finn; very bad indeed; very bad, ain’t it?”

“You coming here in this way at all times in the day is very bad,” said Phineas.

“And where would you have me go?  Would you like to see me down in the lobby of the House?”

“To tell you the truth, Mr. Clarkson, I don’t want to see you anywhere.”

“Ah; yes; I daresay!  And that’s what you call honest, being a Parliament gent!  You had my money, and then you tell me you don’t want to see me any more!”

“I have not had your money,” said Phineas.

“But let me tell you,” continued Mr. Clarkson, “that I want to see you;—­and shall go on seeing you till the money is paid.”

“I’ve not had any of your money,” said Phineas.

Mr. Clarkson again twitched his chin about on the top of his cravat and smiled.  “Mr. Finn,” said he, showing the bill, “is that your name?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then I want my money.”

“I have no money to give you.”

“Do be punctual now.  Why ain’t you punctual?  I’d do anything for you if you were punctual.  I would indeed.”  Mr. Clarkson, as he said this, sat down in the chair which had been placed for our hero’s breakfast, and cutting a slice off the loaf, began to butter it with great composure.

“Mr. Clarkson,” said Phineas, “I cannot ask you to breakfast here.  I am engaged.”

“I’ll just take a bit of bread and butter all the same,” said Clarkson.  “Where do you get your butter?  Now I could tell you a woman who’d give it you cheaper and a deal better than this.  This is all lard.  Shall I send her to you?”

“No,” said Phineas.  There was no tea ready, and therefore Mr. Clarkson emptied the milk into a cup and drank it.  “After this,” said Phineas, “I must beg, Mr. Clarkson, that you will never come to my room any more.  I shall not be at home to you.”

“The lobby of the House is the same thing to me,” said Mr. Clarkson.  “They know me there well.  I wish you’d be punctual, and then we’d be the best of friends.”  After that Mr. Clarkson, having finished his bread and butter, took his leave.

CHAPTER XXVIII

The Second Reading Is Carried