"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.

"And oh, Roundhand!" continued our governor, "draw a cheque for seven
hundred, will you! Come, don't stare, man; I'm not going to run away!
That's right,--seven hundred--and ninety, say, while you're about it! Our
board meets on Saturday, and never fear I'll account for it to them
before I drive you down. We shall take up the Chancellor at Whitehall."