Tony Butler. Lever Charles James
began the shorter of the two, in a slow, deliberate voice, “that you have grossly outraged one of the inferior officers of this department; and although the case is one which demands, and shall have, the attention of the police authorities, we have sent for you – Mr. Brand and I – to express our indignation, – eh, Brand?” added he, in a whisper.
“Certainly, our indignation,” chimed in the other.
“And aware, as we are,” resumed the Chief, “that you are an applicant for employment under this department, to convey to you the assurance that such conduct as you have been guilty of totally debars you – excludes you – ”
“Yes, excludes you,” chimed in Brand.
“From the most remote prospect of an appointment!” said the first, taking up a book, and throwing it down with a slap on the table, as though the more emphatically to confirm his words.
“Who are you, may I ask, who pronounce so finally on my prospects?” cried Tony.
“Who are we, – who are we?” said the Chief, in a horror at the query. “Will you tell him, Mr. Brand?”
The other was, however, ringing violently at the bell, and did not hear the question.
“Have you sent to Scotland Yard?” asked he of the servant who came to his summons. “Tell Willis to be ready to accompany the officer, and make his charge.”
“The gentleman asks who we are!” said Baynes, with a feeble laugh.
“I ask in no sort of disrespect to you,” said Butler, “but simply to learn in what capacity I am to regard you. Are you magistrates? Is this a court?”
“No, sir, we are not magistrates,” said Brand; “we are heads of departments, – departments which we shall take care do not include within their limits persons of your habits and pursuits.”
“You can know very little about my habits or pursuits. I promised your hall-porter I ‘d kick him, and I don’t suspect that either you or your little friend there would risk any interference to protect him.”
“My Lord!” said a messenger, in a voice of almost tremulous terror, while he flung open both inner and outer door for the great man’s approach. The person who entered with a quick, active step was an elderly man, white-whiskered and white-haired, but his figure well set up, and his hat rakishly placed a very little on one side; his features were acute, and betokened promptitude and decision, blended with a sort of jocular humor about the mouth, as though even State affairs did not entirely indispose a man to a jest.
“Don’t send that bag off to-night, Baynes, till I come down,” said he, hurriedly; “and if any telegrams arrive, send them over to the house. What’s this policeman doing at the door? – who is refractory?”
“This – young man” – he paused, for he had almost said “gentleman” – “has just threatened an old and respectable servant of the office with a personal chastisement, my Lord.”
“Declared he ‘d break every bone in his body,” chimed in Brand.
“Whose body?” asked his Lordship.
“Willis’s, my Lord, – the hall-porter, – a man, if I mistake not, appointed by your Lordship.”
“I said I ‘d kick him,” said Tony, calmly.
“Kick Willis?” said my Lord, with a forced gravity, which could not, however, suppress a laughing twinkle of his keen gray eyes, – “kick Willis?”
“Yes, my Lord; he does not attempt to deny it.”
“What’s your name, sir,” asked my Lord.
“Butler,” was the brief reply.
“The son of – no, not son – but relative of Sir Omerod’s?” asked his Lordship again.
“His nephew.”
“Why, Sir Harry Elphinstone has asked me for something for you. I don’t see what I can do for you. It would be an admirable thing to have some one to kick the porters; but we have n’t thought of such an appointment, – eh, Baynes? Willis, the very first; most impudent dog! We want a messenger for Bucharest, Brand, don’t we?”
“No, my Lord; you filled it this morning, – gave it to Mr. Beed.”
“Cancel Beed, then, and appoint Butler.”
“Mr. Beed has gone, my Lord, – started with the Vienna bag.”
“Make Butler supernumerary.”
“There are four already, my Lord.”
“I don’t care if there were forty, Mr. Brand! Go and pass your examination, young gentleman, and thank Sir Harry Elphinstone, for this nomination is at his request. I am only sorry you didn’t kick Willis.” And with this parting speech he turned away, and hopped downstairs to his brougham, with the light step and jaunty air of a man of thirty.
Scarcely was the door closed, when Baynes and Brand retired into a window recess, conversing in lowest whispers and with much head-shaking. To what a frightful condition the country must come – any country must come – when administered by men of such levity, who make a sport of its interests, and a practical joke of its patronage – was the theme over which they now mourned in common.
“Are you going to make a minute of this appointment, Brand?” asked Baynes. “I declare I ‘d not do it.”
The other pursed up his lips and leaned his head to one side, as though to imply that such a course would be a bold one.
“Will you put his name on your list?”
“I don’t know,” muttered the other. “I suspect we can do it better. Where have you been educated, Mr. Butler?”
“At home, principally.”
“Never at any public school?”
“Never, except you call a village school a public one.”
Brand’s eyes glistened, and Baynes’s returned the sparkle.
“Are you a proficient in French?”
“Far from it. I could spell out a fable, or a page of ‘Telemachus,’ and even that would push me hard.”
“Do you write a good hand?”
“It is legible, but it’s no beauty.”
“And your arithmetic?”
“Pretty much like my French, – the less said about it the better.”
“I think that will do, Brand,” whispered Baynes.
The other nodded, and muttered, “Of course; and it is the best way to do it.”
“These are the points, Mr. Butler,” he continued, giving him a printed paper, “on which you will have to satisfy the Civil Service Commissioners; they are, as you see, not very numerous nor very difficult. A certificate as to general conduct and character – British subject – some knowledge of foreign languages – the first four rules of arithmetic – and that you are able to ride – ”
“Thank Heaven, there is one thing I can do; and if you ask the Commissioners to take a cast ‘cross country, I ‘ll promise them a breather.”
Tony never noticed – nor, had he noticed, had he cared for – the grave austerity of the heads of departments at this outburst of enthusiasm. He was too full of his own happiness, and too eager to share it with his mother.
As he gained the street, Skeffington passed his arm through his, and walked along with him, offering him his cordial gratulations, and giving him many wise and prudent counsels, though unfortunately, from the state of ignorance of Tony’s mind, these latter were lamentably unprofitable. It was of “the Office” that he warned him, – of its tempers, its caprices, its rancors, and its jealousies, till, lost in the maze of his confusion, poor Tony began to regard it as a beast of ill-omened and savage passions, – a great monster, in fact, who lived on the bones and flesh of ardent and high-hearted