In a breath every Minister in the room had promised to show the same instance of attachment to the institution that had saved the Government, and when the energetic young Chancellor left Whitehall the congratulations of the whole Council of Regency were ringing in his ears. He entered his smart coach and drove straight to the Mint, where men were working day and night at the milled money which he and his friend Mr. Newton were turning out at the rate of a hundred and twenty thousand a week. Fifteen thousand was the highest amount the former master of the Mint had declared it was possible to produce in that time, but Mr. Newton had done the incredible in reforming the Mint. It was to his apartments Charles Montague went now, twirling his cane and fluttering his laces. The Warden of His Majesty’s Mint and Exchanges and Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge was a gentleman a little past middle life, of a very refined aristocratic appearance, with an air of extraordinary calm and stillness. He wore a murrey-coloured coat, a small grey peruke, and a little brooch of rubies in a plain lace cravat. When Mr. Montague entered he was seated at a table covered with a multitude of papers. He looked up instantly; his delicate features expressed a very winning composed dignity. "I wished to speak to you about the new Mint at Chester, Mr. Newton," said the Chancellor; his manner was totally different from that he had used to the Ministers at Whitehall. "Another Mint, yes, Mr. Montague," answered the Warden, in the same grave tone. "Those at York and Norwich have been very popular, but I fear we have not enough trained men to spare yet—though I am having them taught as fast as may be." "I want more than will suffice for Chester," said the Chancellor briskly. "I thought of York and Exeter as likely stations." He seated himself by the window and looked out on the pleasant prospect of the sunny river and glistening roofs. "The people take it very well," he added. "One could not have hoped to pass through the crisis better; there is a good temper and a good sense shown very gratifying." "Why, yes," said Mr. Newton; "but one may always look for both from the English." A servant entered with a letter, which he glanced at and laid down with a gentle little sound of displeasure. "What is that?" asked Mr. Montague. "Oh, ’tis from Flamsteed; he is ever dunning me to go see his observatory at Greenwich—he cannot believe that there is anything in the world more important than stars, nor that I do not love to be teased with mathematical things when I am about the King’s business." Mr. Montague glanced at the astronomer’s sealed letter. "Speaking of the King’s business," he remarked, "the Bank of England hath promised to advance the two hundred thousand for the troops in Flanders." Mr. Newton looked up quickly. "Why, I am glad of that. Sir, this is a great thing—it will greatly raise the credit of the Bank."