“You will have to do it, though, sir,” thundered Mr. Galloway, who had come up, and was enjoying a survey of affairs through the open window. Mr. Roland, somewhat taken to, dropped his head and the wafer-box together, and went on with his writing as meekly as poor Jenkins would have done; and Mr. Galloway entered. “Good day,” said he to Arthur, shortly enough. “Good day, sir,” was the response. Mr. Galloway turned to his idle clerk. “Roland Yorke, you must either work or say you will not. There is no time for playing and fooling; no time, sir! do you hear? Who put that window stark staring open?” “I did, sir,” said incorrigible Roland. “I thought the office might be the better for a little air, when there was so much to do in it.” Mr. Galloway shut it with a bang. Arthur, who would not leave without some attempt at a passing courtesy, let it be ever so slight, made a remark to Mr. Galloway, that he was sorry to hear Jenkins was worse. “He is so much worse,” was the response of Mr. Galloway, spoken sharply, for the edification of Roland Yorke, “that I doubt whether he will ever enter this room again. Yes, sir, you may look; but it is the truth!” Roland did look, looked with considerable consternation. “How on earth will the work get done, then?” he muttered. With all his grumbling, he had not contemplated Jenkins being away more than a day or two. “I do not know how it will get done, considering that the clerk upon whom I have to depend is Roland Yorke,” answered Mr. Galloway, with severity. “One thing appears pretty evident, that Jenkins will not be able to help to do it.” Mr. Galloway, more perplexed at the news brought by Mrs. Jenkins than he had allowed to appear (for, although he chose to make a show of depending upon Roland, he knew how much dependence there was in reality to be placed upon him--none knew better), had deemed it advisable to see Jenkins personally, and judge for himself of his state of health. Accordingly, he proceeded thither, and arrived at an inopportune moment for his hopes. Jenkins was just recovering from a second fainting fit, and appeared altogether so ill, so debilitated, that Mr. Galloway was struck with dismay. There would be no more work from Jenkins--as he believed--for him. He mentioned this now in his own office, and Roland received it with blank consternation. An impulse came to Arthur, and he spoke upon it. “If I can be of any use to you, sir, in this emergency, you have only to command me.” “What sort of use?” asked Mr. Galloway. Arthur pointed to the parchments. “I could draw out these deeds, and any others that may follow them. My time is my own, sir, except the two hours devoted to the cathedral, and I am at a loss how to occupy it. I have been idle ever since I left you.” “Why don’t you get into an office?” said Mr. Galloway. Arthur’s colour deepened. “Because, sir, no one will take me.” “Ah!” said Mr. Galloway, drily, “a good name is easier lost than won.”