annoyed, but he wished to conceal the fact. Besides, he still had an
arrow in his quiver. He came and stood over his subordinate.

"Congratulate you, I'm sure, Chetwode," he said smoothly. "First
time any one except myself has been to the house since Mr.
Weatherley's marriage."

Mr. Jarvis had taken the letters there one morning when his employer
had been unwell, and had waited in the hall. He did not, however,
mention that fact.

"Indeed?" Chetwode murmured, with his eye upon his work.

"You understand, of course," Mr. Jarvis continued, "that it will be
an evening-dress affair. Mrs. Weatherley has the name of being very
particular."

He glanced covertly at the young man, who was already immersed in
his work.

"Evening dress," Chetwode remarked, with a becoming show of
interest. "Well, I dare say I can manage something. If I wear a
black coat and a white silk bow, and stick a red handkerchief in
underneath my waistcoat, I dare say I shall be all right. Mr.
Weatherley can't expect much from me in that way, can he?"

The senior clerk was secretly delighted. It was not for him to
acquaint this young countryman with the necessities of London life.
He turned away and took up a bundle of letters.