On the same afternoon, Crosbie was summoned into the Board-room in the usual way, between two and three.  This was a daily occurrence, as he always sat for about an hour with two out of the three Commissioners, after they had fortified themselves with a biscuit and a glass of sherry.  On the present occasion, the usual amount of business was transacted, but it was done in a manner which made Crosbie feel that they did not all stand together on their usual footing.  The three Commissioners were all there.  The Chairman gave his directions in a solemn, pompous voice, which was by no means usual to him when he was in good humour.  The Major said little or nothing; but there was a gleam of satisfied sarcasm in his eye.  Things were going wrong at the Board, and he was pleased.  Mr Butterwell was exceedingly civil in his demeanour, and rather more than ordinarily brisk.  As soon as the regular work of the day was over, Mr Optimist shuffled about on his chair, rising from his seat, and then sitting down again.  He looked through a lot of papers close to his hand, peering at them over his spectacles.  Then he selected one, took off his spectacles, leaned back in his chair, and began his little speech.

“Mr Crosbie,” he said, “we are all very much gratified,—­very much gratified, indeed,—­by your zeal and energy in the service.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Crosbie; “I am fond of the service.”

“Exactly, exactly; we all feel that.  But we think that you,—­if I were to say take too much upon yourself, I should say, perhaps, more than we mean.”

“Don’t say more than you mean, Mr Optimist.”  Crosbie’s eyes, as he spoke, gleamed slightly with his momentary triumph; as did also those of Major Fiasco.

“No, no, no,” said Mr Optimist; “I would say rather less than more to so very good a public servant as yourself.  But you, doubtless, understand me?”

“I don’t think I do quite, sir.  If I have not taken too much on me, what is it that I have done that I ought not to have done?”

“You have given directions in many cases for which you ought first to have received authority.  Here is an instance,” and the selected paper was at once brought out.

It was a matter in which the Secretary had been manifestly wrong according to written law, and he could not defend it on its own merits.

“If you wish me,” said he, “to confine myself exactly to the positive instructions of the office, I will do so; but I think you will find it inconvenient.”

“It will be far the best” said Mr Optimist.

“Very well,” said Mr Crosbie, “it shall be done.”  And he at once determined to make himself as unpleasant to the three gentlemen in the room as he might find it within his power to do.  He could make himself very unpleasant, but the unpleasantness would be as much to him as to them.

Nothing would now go right with him.  He could look in no direction for satisfaction.  He sauntered into Sebright’s, as he went home, but he could not find words to speak to any one about the little matters of the day.  He went home, and his wife, though she was up, complained still of her headache.