Neverbend nearly threw the loaf at the waiter's head. Wait ten minutes longer! what right had that vile Devonshire napkin-twirler to make to him so base a proposition? 'Bring me my breakfast, sir,' shouted Neverbend, in a voice that made the unfortunate sinner jump out of the room, as though he had been moved by a galvanic battery. In five minutes, tea made with lukewarm water, and eggs that were not half boiled were brought to the impatient Commissioner. As a rule Mr. Neverbend, when travelling on the public service, made a practice of enjoying his meals. It was the only solace which he allowed himself; the only distraction from the cares of office which he permitted either to his body or his mind. But on this great occasion his country required that he should forget his comforts; and he drank his tasteless tea, and ate his uncooked eggs, threatening the waiter as he did so with sundry pains and penalties, in the form of sixpences withheld. 'Is the fly there?' said he, as he bolted a last morsel of cold roast beef. 'Coming, sir,' said the waiter, as he disappeared round a corner. In the meantime Alaric sat lackadaisical on his bedside, all undressed, leaning his head upon his hand, and feeling that his struggle to dress himself was all but useless. The sympathetic boots stood by with a cup of tea--well-drawn comfortable tea--in his hand, and a small bit of dry toast lay near on an adjacent plate. 'Try a bit o' toast, sir,' said boots. 'Ugh!' ejaculated poor Alaric. 'Have a leetle drop o' rum in the tea, sir, and it'll set you all to rights in two minutes.' The proposal made Alaric very sick, and nearly completed the catastrophe. 'Ugh!' he said. 'There's the trap, sir, for Mr. Neverbend,' said the boots, whose ears caught the well-known sound. 'The devil it is!' said Alaric, who was now stirred up to instant action. 'Take my compliments to Mr. Neverbend, and tell him I'll thank him to wait ten minutes.' Boots, descending with the message, found Mr. Neverbend ready coated and gloved, standing at the hotel door. The fly was there, and the lame ostler holding the horse; but the provoking driver had gone back for his coat. 'Please, sir, Mr. Tudor says as how you're not to go just at present, but to wait ten minutes till he be ready.' Neverbend looked at the man, but he would not trust himself to speak. Wait ten minutes, and it now wanted five-and-twenty minutes to eight!--no--not for all the Tudors that ever sat upon the throne of England. There he stood with his watch in his hand as the returning Jehu hurried round from the stable yard. 'You are now seven minutes late,' said he, 'and if you are not at the place by eight o'clock, I shall not give you one farthing!' 'All right,' said Jehu. 'We'll be at Mary Jane in less than no time;' and off they went, not at the quickest pace. But Neverbend's heart beat high with triumph, as he reflected that he had carried the point on which he had been so intent.