“What money has been paid in to-day, Roundhand?” he said, in a very kind way.

“The widow, sir, came with her money; nine hundred and four ten and six—­say 904_l_. 10_s_. 6_d_.  Captain Sparr, sir, paid his shares up; grumbles, though, and says he’s no more:  fifty shares, two instalments—­three fifties, sir.”

“He’s always grumbling!”

“He says he has not a shilling to bless himself with until our dividend day.”

“Any more?”

Mr. Roundhand went through the book, and made it up nineteen hundred pounds in all.  We were doing a famous business now; though when I came into the office, we used to sit, and laugh, and joke, and read the newspapers all day; bustling into our seats whenever a stray customer came.  Brough never cared about our laughing and singing then, and was hand and glove with Bob Swinney; but that was in early times, before we were well in harness.

“Nineteen hundred pounds, and a thousand pounds in shares.  Bravo, Roundhand—­bravo, gentlemen!  Remember, every share you bring in brings you five per cent. down on the nail!  Look to your friends—­stick to your desks—­be regular—­I hope none of you forget church.  Who takes Mr. Swinney’s place?”

“Mr. Samuel Titmarsh, sir.”

“Mr. Titmarsh, I congratulate you.  Give me your hand, sir:  you are now twelfth clerk of this Association, and your salary is consequently increased five pounds a year.  How is your worthy mother, sir—­your dear and excellent parent?  In good health I trust?  And long—­long, I fervently pray, may this office continue to pay her annuity!  Remember, if she has more money to lay out, there is higher interest than the last for her, for she is a year older; and five per cent. for you, my boy!  Why not you as well as another?  Young men will be young men, and a ten-pound note does no harm.  Does it, Mr. Abednego?”

“Oh, no!” says Abednego, who was third clerk, and who was the chap that informed against Swinney; and he began to laugh, as indeed we all did whenever Mr. Brough made anything like a joke:  not that they were jokes; only we used to know it by his face.

“Oh, by-the-bye, Roundhand,” says he, “a word with you on business.  Mrs. Brough wants to know why the deuce you never come down to Fulham.”

“Law, that’s very polite!” said Mr. Roundhand, quite pleased.

“Name your day, my boy!  Say Saturday, and bring your night-cap with you.”

“You’re very polite, I’m sure.  I should be delighted beyond anything, but—­”

“But—­no buts, my boy!  Hark ye! the Chancellor of the Exchequer does me the honour to dine with us, and I want you to see him; for the truth is, I have bragged about you to his Lordship as the best actuary in the three kingdoms.”

Roundhand could not refuse such an invitation as that, though he had told us how Mrs. R. and he were going to pass Saturday and Sunday at Putney; and we who knew what a life the poor fellow led, were sure that the head clerk would be prettily scolded by his lady when she heard what was going on.  She disliked Mrs. Brough very much, that was the fact; because Mrs. B. kept a carriage, and said she didn’t know where Pentonville was, and couldn’t call on Mrs. Roundhand.  Though, to be sure, her coachman might have found out the way.