to the Chief Commissioner of the Income-Tax Board, and drew a salary of three hundred and fifty pounds a year from the resources of the country; but when, in addition to this source of official wealth, he became known as the undoubted possessor of a hundred and twenty-eight shares in one of the most prosperous joint-stock banks in the metropolis, which property had been left to him free of legacy duty by the lamented nobleman above named, then Mr John Eames rose very high indeed as a young man in the estimation of those who knew him, and was supposed to be something a good deal out of the common way.  His mother, who lived in the country, was obedient to his slightest word, never venturing to impose upon him any sign of parental authority; and to his sister, Mary Eames, who lived with her mother, he was almost a god on earth.  To sisters who have nothing of their own—­not even some special god for their own individual worship—­generous, affectionate, unmarried brothers, with sufficient incomes, are gods upon earth.

And even up in London Mr John Eames was somebody.  He was so especially at his office; although, indeed, it was remembered by many a man how raw a lad he had been when he first came there, not so very many years ago; and how they had laughed at him and played him tricks; and how he had customarily been known to be without a shilling for the last week before pay-day, during which period he would borrow sixpence here and a shilling there with energy, from men who now felt themselves to be honoured when he smiled upon them.  Little stories of his former days would often be told of him behind his back; but they were not told with ill-nature, because he was very constant in referring to the same matters himself.  And it was acknowledged by everyone at the office, that neither the friendship of the nobleman, nor that fact of the private secretaryship, nor the acquisition of his wealth, had made him proud to his old companions or forgetful of old friendships.  To the young men, lads who had lately been appointed, he was perhaps a little cold; but then it was only reasonable to conceive that such a one as Mr John Eames was now could not be expected to make an intimate acquaintance with every new clerk that might be brought into the office.  Since competitive examinations had come into vogue, there was no knowing who might be introduced; and it was understood generally through the establishment—­and I may almost say by the civil service at large, so wide was his fame—­that Mr Eames was very averse to the whole theory of competition.  The ‘Devil take the hindmost’ scheme he called it; and would then go on to explain that hindmost candidates were often the best gentlemen, and that, in this way, the Devil got the pick of the flock.  And he was respected the more for this because it was known that on this subject he had fought some hard battles with the commissioner.  The chief commissioner was a great believer in competition, wrote papers about