"One of you gentlemen can just step in to see Jenkins in the course of
the day, and reassure him that he is not wanted," said Mr. Galloway. "I
know how necessary it is to keep the mind tranquil in any fear of brain
affection."

No more was said, and the occupation of the day began. A busy day was
that at Mr. Galloway's, much to the chagrin of Roland Yorke, who had an
unconquerable objection to doing too much. He broke out into grumblings
at Arthur, when the latter came running in from his duty at college.

"I'll tell you what is, Channing; you ought not to have made the
bargain to go to that bothering organ on busy days; and Galloway must
have been out of his mind to let you make it. Look at the heap of work
there is to do!"

"I will soon make up for the lost hour," said Arthur, setting to with a
will. "Where's Mr. Galloway?"

"Gone to the bank," grumbled Roland. "And I have had to answer a dozen
callers-in at least, and do all my writing besides. I wonder what
possessed Jenkins to go and knock his head to powder?"

Mr. Galloway shortly returned, and sat down to write. It was a thing he
rarely did; he left writing to his clerks, unless it was the writing of
letters. By one o'clock the chief portion of the work was done, and Mr.
Roland Yorke's spirits recovered their elasticity. He went home to
dinner, as usual. Arthur preferred to remain at his post, and get on
further, sending the housekeeper's little maid out for a twopenny roll,
which he ate as he wrote. He was of a remarkably conscientious nature,