Miss Lavinia was completely astounded. "Old Scowley," "Mr. Jinks," "pigeon," "paper round his neck," and "Fanny,"--all these objects were inextricably mingled in her unfortunate brain, and she could not disentangle them from each other, or discover the least clue to the labyrinth. She, therefore, gazed at Verty with more overwhelming dignity than ever, and not deigning to make any reply to his rhapsody, sailed by with a stiff inclination of the head, toward the door. But Verty was growing gallant under Mr. Roundjacket's teaching. He rose with great good humor, and accompanied Miss Lavinia to her carriage--he upon one side, the gallant head clerk on the other--and politely assisted the lady into her chariot, all the time smiling in a manner which was pleasant to behold. His last words, as the door closed and the chariot drove off, were-- "Recollect, Miss Lavinia, please don't forget to give my love to Redbud!" Having impressed this important point upon Miss Lavinia, Verty returned to the office, with the sighing Roundjacket, humming one of his old Indian airs, and caressing Longears. CHAPTER XVII. MR. JINKS AT HOME. The young man sat down at his desk, and began to write. But this occupation did not seem to amuse him, and, in a few moments, he threw away the pen he was writing with, and demanded another from Mr. Roundjacket. That gentleman complied, and made him a new one. Verty wrote for five minutes with the new one; and then split it deplorably. Mr. Roundjacket heard the noise, and protested against such carelessness. "Oh," sighed Verty, "this writing is a terrible thing to-day; I want a holiday." "There's no holiday in law, sir." "Never?" "No, never." "It's a very slavish thing, then," Verty said. "You are not far wrong there, young man," replied his companion; "but it also has its delights." "I have never seen any." "You are a savage." "I believe I am." "Your character is like your costume--barbarous." "Yes--Indian," said Verty; "but I just thought, Mr. Roundjacket, of my new suit. To-day was to be the time for getting it." "Very true," said the clerk, laying down his pen, "and as everything is best done in order, we will go at once." Roundjacket opened Mr. Rushton's door, and informed him where he was going, and for what purpose--a piece of information which was received with a growl, and various muttered ejaculations. Verty had already put on his fur hat. "The fact is," said Roundjacket, as they issued forth into the street of the town, followed by Longears, "the old fellow, yonder, is getting dreadfully bearish." "Is he, sir?" "Yes; and every year it increases." "I like him, though." "You are right, young man--a noble-hearted man is Rushton; but unfortunate, sir,--unfortunate." And Mr. Roundjacket shook his head. "How?" "That's his secret--not mine," was the reserved reply. "Well, I won't ask it, then," Verty said; "I never care to know anything--there's the tailor's, aint it?"