“I hope he’ll succeed, Mr. Slide.”

“He’ll earn his wages.  He’s a man who will always earn his wages, but nothing more.  Well, now, Mr. Finn, I will just offer you one word of apology for our little severities.”

“Pray do nothing of the kind.”

“Indeed I shall.  Dooty is dooty.  There was some things printed which were a little rough, but if one isn’t a little rough there ain’t no flavour.  Of course I wrote ’em.  You know my ’and, I dare say.”

“I only remember that there was some throwing of mud.”

“Just so.  But mud don’t break any bones; does it?  When you turned against us I had to be down on you, and I was down upon you;—­that’s just about all of it.  Now you’re coming among us again, and so I come to you with a calumet of peace.”

“But I am not coming among you.”

“Yes you are, Finn, and bringing Monk with you.”  It was now becoming very disagreeable, and Phineas was beginning to perceive that it would soon be his turn to say something rough.  “Now I’ll tell you what my proposition is.  If you’ll do us two leaders a week through the session, you shall have a cheque for L16 on the last day of every month.  If that’s not honester money than what you got in Downing Street, my name is not Quintus Slide.”

“Mr. Slide,” said Phineas,—­and then he paused.

“If we are to come to business, drop the Mister.  It makes things go so much easier.”

“We are not to come to business, and I do not want things to go easy.  I believe you said some things of me in your newspaper that were very scurrilous.”

“What of that?  If you mind that sort of thing—­”

“I did not regard it in the least.  You are quite welcome to continue it.  I don’t doubt but you will continue it.  But you are not welcome to come here afterwards.”

“Do you mean to turn me out?”

“Just that.  You printed a heap of lies—­”

“Lies, Mr. Finn!  Did you say lies, sir?”

“I said lies;—­lies;—­lies!” And Phineas walked over at him as though he were going to pitch him instantly out of the window.  “You may go and write as many more as you like.  It is your trade, and you must do it or starve.  But do not come to me again.”  Then he opened the door and stood with it in his hand.

“Very well, sir.  I shall know how to punish this.”

“Exactly.  But if you please you’ll go and do your punishment at the office of the Banner,—­unless you like to try it here.  You want to kick me and spit at me, but you will prefer to do it in print.”

“Yes, sir,” said Quintus Slide.  “I shall prefer to do it in print,—­though I must own that the temptation to adopt the manual violence of a ruffian is great, very great, very great indeed.”  But he resisted the temptation and walked down the stairs, concocting his article as he went.