“Save me from good-nature that is not allied with good manners, then,” said she, growing crimson as she spoke. “I have not escaped scot-free, I assure you,” said he, smiling; “but it seems to me a man really never knows what the world thinks of him till he has gone through the ordeal of broken fortune. By the way, where is Cattaro? the name sounds Italian.” “I assumed it to be in Italy somewhere, but I can't tell you why.” Bramleigh took down his atlas, and pored patiently over Italy and her outlying islands for a long time, but in vain. Nelly, too, aided him in his search, but to no purpose. While they were still bending over the map, Cutbill entered with a large despatch-shaped letter in his hand. “The Queen's messenger has just handed me that for you, Bramleigh. I hope it's good news.” Bramleigh opened and read:-- “Foreign Office. “Sir,--I have had much pleasure in submitting your name to Her Majesty for the appointment of consul at Cattaro, where your salary will be two hundred pounds a year, and twenty pounds for office expenses. You will repair to your post without unnecessary delay, and report your arrival to this department. “I am, &c, &c, “RIDDLESWORTH.” “Two hundred a year! Fifty less than we gave our cook!” said Bramleigh, with a faint smile. “It is an insult, an outrage,” said Nelly, whose face and neck glowed till they appeared crimson. “I hope, Gusty, you 'll have the firmness to reject such an offer.” “What does Mr. Cutbill say?” asked he, turning towards him. “Mr. Cutbill says that if you 're bent on playing Don Quixote, and won't go back and enjoy what's your own, like a sensible man, this pittance--it ain't more--is better than trying to eke out life by your little talents.” Nelly turned her large eyes, open to the widest, upon him, as he spoke, with an expression so palpably that of rebuke for his freedom, that he replied to her stare by saying,-- “Of course I am very free and easy. More than that, I 'm downright rude. That's what you mean--a vulgar dog! but don't you see that's what diminished fortune must bring you to? You 'll have to live with vulgar dogs. It's not only coarse cookery, but coarse company a man comes to. Ay, and there are people will tell you that both are useful--as alteratives, as the doctors call them.” It was a happy accident that made him lengthen out the third syllable of the word, which amused Nelly so much that she laughed outright “Can you tell us where is Cattaro, Mr. Cutbill?” asked Bramleigh, eager that the other should not notice his sister's laughter. “I haven't the faintest notion; but Bollard, the messenger, is eating his luncheon at the station. I 'll run down and ask him.” And without waiting for a reply, he seized his hat and hurried away. “One must own he is good-natured,” said Nelly, “but he does make us pay somewhat smartly for it. His wholesome truths are occasionally hard to swallow.”