The debate on the bill was prolonged during the whole of that week.  Lord Brentford, who loved his seat in the Cabinet and the glory of being a Minister, better even than he loved his borough, had taken a gloomy estimate when he spoke of twenty-seven defaulters, and of the bill as certainly lost.  Men who were better able than he to make estimates,—­the Bonteens and Fitzgibbons on each side of the House, and above all, the Ratlers and Robys, produced lists from day to day which varied now by three names in one direction, then by two in another, and which fluctuated at last by units only.  They all concurred in declaring that it would be a very near division.  A great effort was made to close the debate on the Friday, but it failed, and the full tide of speech was carried on till the following Monday.  On that morning Phineas heard Mr. Ratler declare at the club that, as far as his judgment went, the division at that moment was a fair subject for a bet.  “There are two men doubtful in the House,” said Ratler, “and if one votes on one side and one on the other, or if neither votes at all, it will be a tie.”  Mr. Roby, however, the whip on the other side, was quite sure that one at least of these gentlemen would go into his lobby, and that the other would not go into Mr. Ratler’s lobby.  I am inclined to think that the town was generally inclined to put more confidence in the accuracy of Mr. Roby than in that of Mr. Ratler; and among betting men there certainly was a point given by those who backed the Conservatives.  The odds, however, were lost, for on the division the numbers in the two lobbies were equal, and the Speaker gave his casting vote in favour of the Government.  The bill was read a second time, and was lost, as a matter of course, in reference to any subsequent action.  Mr. Roby declared that even Mr. Mildmay could not go on with nothing but the Speaker’s vote to support him.  Mr. Mildmay had no doubt felt that he could not go on with his bill from the moment in which Mr. Turnbull had declared his opposition; but he could not with propriety withdraw it in deference to Mr. Turnbull’s opinion.

During the week Phineas had had his hands sufficiently full.  Twice he had gone to the potted peas inquiry; but he had been at the office of the People’s Banner more often than that.  Bunce had been very resolute in his determination to bring an action against the police for false imprisonment, even though he spent every shilling of his savings in doing so.  And when his wife, in the presence of Phineas, begged that bygones might be bygones, reminding him that spilt milk could not be recovered, he called her a mean-spirited woman.  Then Mrs. Bunce wept a flood of tears, and told her favourite lodger that for her all comfort in this world was over.  “Drat the reformers, I say.  And I wish there was no Parliament; so I do.  What’s the use of all the voting, when it means nothing but dry bread and cross words?” Phineas by no means encouraged his landlord in his