‘A quarter past ten; and I have some miles to drive to Kingstown.’ ‘And not yet packed, perhaps?’ said the other listlessly. ‘No, sir; nothing ready.’ ‘Oh! you’ll be in ample time; I’ll vouch for it. You are one of the rough-and-ready order, who are never late. Not but in this same flurry of yours you have made me forget something I know I had to say; and you tell me you can’t remember it?’ ‘No, sir.’ ‘And yet,’ said the other sententiously, ‘the crowning merit of a private secretary is exactly that sort of memory. _Your_ intellects, if properly trained, should be the complement of your chief’s. The infinite number of things that are too small and too insignificant for _him_, are to have their place, duly docketed and dated, in _your_ brain; and the very expression of his face should be an indication to you of what he is looking for and yet cannot remember. Do you mark me?’ ‘Half-past ten,’ cried Atlee, as the clock chimed on the mantel-piece; and he hurried away without another word. It was only as he saw the pitiable penury of his own scanty wardrobe that he could persuade himself to accept of Walpole’s offer. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘the loan of a dress-coat may be the turning-point of a whole destiny. Junot sold all he had to buy a sword, to make his first campaign; all I have is my shame, and here it goes for a suit of clothes!’ And, with these words, he rushed down to Walpole’s dressing-room, and not taking time to inspect and select the contents, carried off the box, as it was, with him. ‘I’ll tell him all when I write,’ muttered he, as he drove away. CHAPTER XXVI DICK KEARNEY’S CHAMBERS When Dick Kearney quitted Kilgobbin Castle for Dublin, he was very far from having any projects in his head, excepting to show his cousin Nina that he could live without her. ‘I believe,’ muttered he to himself, ‘she counts upon me as another “victim.” These coquettish damsels have a theory that the “whole drama of life” is the game of their fascinations and the consequences that come of them, and that we men make it our highest ambition to win them, and subordinate all we do in life to their favour. I should like to show her that one man at least refuses to yield this allegiance, and that whatever her blandishments do with others, with him they are powerless.’ These thoughts were his travelling-companions for nigh fifty miles of travel, and, like most travelling-companions, grew to be tiresome enough towards the end of the journey.