and sometimes with another;—­but it may be doubted whether he had any friend.  It may be doubted whether he had ever talked enough to any man to make that man his friend.  Laurence Fitzgibbon tried him for one season, and after a month or two asked for a loan of a few hundred pounds.  “I never lend money to any one under any circumstances,” said Mr. Kennedy, and it was the longest speech which had ever fallen from his mouth in the hearing of Laurence Fitzgibbon.  But though he would not lend money, he gave a great deal,—­and he would give it for almost every object.  “Mr. Robert Kennedy, M.P., Loughlinter, L105,” appeared on almost every charitable list that was advertised.  No one ever spoke to him as to this expenditure, nor did he ever speak to any one.  Circulars came to him and the cheques were returned.  The duty was a very easy one to him, and he performed it willingly.  Had any amount of inquiry been necessary, it is possible that the labour would have been too much for him.  Such was Mr. Robert Kennedy, as to whom Phineas had heard that he had during the last winter entertained Lord Brentford and Lady Laura, with very many other people of note, at his place in Perthshire.

“I very much prefer the monkey,” said Phineas to Miss Fitzgibbon.

“I thought you would,” said she.  “Like to like, you know.  You have both of you the same aptitude for climbing.  But the monkeys never fall, they tell me.”

Phineas, knowing that he could gain nothing by sparring with Miss Fitzgibbon, raised his hat and took his leave.  Going out of a narrow gate he found himself again brought into contact with Mr. Kennedy.  “What a crowd there is here,” he said, finding himself bound to say something.  Mr. Kennedy, who was behind him, answered him not a word.  Then Phineas made up his mind that Mr. Kennedy was insolent with the insolence of riches, and that he would hate Mr. Kennedy.

He was engaged to dine on this Sunday with Mr. Low, the barrister, with whom he had been reading for the last three years.  Mr. Low had taken a strong liking to Phineas, as had also Mrs. Low, and the tutor had more than once told his pupil that success in his profession was certainly open to him if he would only stick to his work.  Mr. Low was himself an ambitious man, looking forward to entering Parliament at some future time, when the exigencies of his life of labour might enable him to do so; but he was prudent, given to close calculation, and resolved to make the ground sure beneath his feet in every step that he took forward.  When he first heard that Finn intended to stand for Loughshane he was stricken with dismay, and strongly dissuaded him.  “The electors may probably reject him.  That’s his only chance now,” Mr. Low had said to his wife, when he found that Phineas was, as he thought, foolhardy.  But the electors of Loughshane had not rejected Mr. Low’s pupil, and Mr. Low was now called upon to advise what Phineas should do in his present circumstances.  There is nothing to prevent the work of a Chancery barrister being done by a member of Parliament.  Indeed, the most successful barristers are members of Parliament.  But Phineas Finn was beginning at the wrong end, and Mr. Low knew that no good would come of it.