But was it possible? The more I considered it, the more doubtful I became. And even were it possible, would it be expedient? The condition of my head forbade an immediate answer. Indeed I was now the subject of a thirst so overwhelming that without pausing to summon my mother, I was obliged to quench it from the various receptacles within easy reach upon my wash-hand stand. I was profoundly shocked, too, by the aspect of my countenance, as this was disclosed to me by my looking-glass; and accustomed as I was to a frequently concealed tongue, I had never before seen it so deeply obscured. Even after I had shaved and dressed, indeed, I was a little doubtful as to whether I should be able to complete the journey to town. But I was determined if possible not only to make the attempt, but to perform my usual afternoon duties. After a cup of tea therefore, and a fragment of dried herring, I ventured into the street and mounted an omnibus, arriving in Paternoster Row at about two o’clock to find Miss Botterill in charge of the show-room. “Good afternoon,” I said. “I have been the victim of a dastardly plot, or I should have been in my place this morning as usual.” “Good afternoon,” she replied, “and please, Mr. Chrysostom said, would you go up to his room as soon as you arrived.” “Certainly,” I said, “and when I come down, Miss Botterill, I should like to see that counter looking a little tidier.” Miss Botterill hesitated. “I’m just rearranging it,” she said. “I propose in future to have it less crowded.” I stared at her. “You propose what?” I asked. “I propose in future,” she said, “to have a bowl of flowers upon it and merely a very few of our latest books.” Depleted as I felt, I yet retained command of myself. “But, my dear Miss Botterill,” I said, “permit me to remind you that your duty is to obey and not propose. You will therefore kindly restore the counter to its previous appearance and remember in future that you are not show-room manager.” “But I am,” she said. She continued her rearranging. Deprived of breath, I could only stand and watch her. Then I leapt forward and gripped her shoulder. “Oh, how dare you?” I cried. “How dare you, woman?” She began to scream. But I declined to let her go until several of the clerks had emerged from the correspondence room. Then I flung her from me heavily, turned upon my heel, and instantly proceeded to Mr. Chrysostom’s office. He was standing at the door. “What’s all this screaming?” he said. “I regret to say,” I replied, “that Miss Botterill has been insubordinate.” “Insubordinate?” he said. “And to whom, please?” “To myself,” I replied, “as your representative.” “Then kindly understand,” he said, “kindly understand, sir, that after last night——” I waved my hand. “One moment,” I said. “It is to explain about last night that I have managed to force myself to come and see you.” He distended his cheeks.