The point had been urged upon Mr. Scully repeatedly and adroitly. “Is not Pincher a more experienced man than Macabaw?” would Sir George say to his guest over their wine. Scully allowed it. “Can't you vote for him on personal grounds, and say so in the House?” Scully wished he could--how he wished he could! Every time the General coughed, Scully saw his friend's desperate situation more and more, and thought how pleasant it would be to be lord of Gorgon Castle. “Knowing my property,” cried Sir George, “as you do, and with your talents and integrity, what a comfort it would be could I leave you as guardian to my boy! But these cursed politics prevent it, my dear fellow. Why WILL you be a Radical?” And Scully cursed politics too. “Hang the low-bred rogue,” added Sir George, when William Pitt Scully left the house: “he will do everything but promise.” “My dear General,” said Lady Gorgon, sidling up to him and patting him on his old yellow cheek--“My dear Georgy, tell me one thing,--are you jealous?” “Jealous, my dear! and jealous of THAT fellow--pshaw!” “Well, then, give me leave, and you shall have the promise to-morrow.” * * * To-morrow arrived. It was a remarkably fine day, and in the forenoon Mr. Perkins gave his accustomed knock at Scully's study, which was only separated from his own sitting-room by a double door. John had wisely followed his uncle's advice, and was on the best terms with the honourable Member. “Here are a few sentences,” said he, “which I think may suit your purpose. Great public services--undeniable merit--years of integrity--cause of reform, and Macabaw for ever!” He put down the paper. It was, in fact, a speech in favour of Mr. Macabaw. “Hush,” said Scully, rather surlily; for he was thinking how disagreeable it was to support Macabaw; and besides, there were clerks in the room, whom the thoughtless Perkins had not at first perceived. As soon as that gentleman saw them, “You are busy, I see,” continued he in a lower tone. “I came to say that I must be off duty to-day, for I am engaged to take a walk with some ladies of my acquaintance.” So saying, the light-hearted young man placed his hat unceremoniously on his head, and went off through his own door, humming a song. He was in such high spirits that he did not even think of closing the doors of communication, and Scully looked after him with a sneer. “Ladies, forsooth,” thought he; “I know who they are. This precious girl that he is fooling with, for one, I suppose.” He was right: Perkins was off on the wings of love, to see Miss Lucy; and she and Aunt Biggs and Uncle Crampton had promised this very day to come and look at the apartments which Mrs. John Perkins was to occupy with her happy husband.