“Well, that certainly was hard,” said Vance, with a droll twinkle of his eye,--“I call that very hard.” “So do I, after the language he used to me, saying all the while, 'I'm no duellist,--I'm not for a saw-pit, with coffee and pistols for two,'--and all that vulgar slang about murder and such-like.” “And was he much hurt?” “No; not much. It was only his collar-bone and one rib, I think,--I forget now,--for I had to go over to Skye, and stay there a good part of the summer.” “Mr. Blount, take down this gentleman's address, and show him where he is to wait; and don't--” Here he lowered his voice, so that the remainder of his speech was inaudible to Tony. “Not if I can help it, sir,” replied Blount; “but if you knew how hard it is!” There was something almost piteous in the youth's face as he spoke; and, indeed, Vance seemed moved to a certain degree of compassion as he said, “Well, well, do your best,--do your best, none can do more.” “It's two o'clock. I 'll go out and have a cigar with you, if you don't mind,” said Blount to Tony. “We 're quite close to the Park here; and a little fresh air will do me good.” “Come along,” said Tony, who, out of compassion, had already a sort of half-liking for the much-suffering young fellow. “I wish Skeffy was here,” said Tony, as they went downstairs. “Do you know Skeff Darner, then?” “Know him! I believe he 's about the fellow I like best in the world.” “So do I,” cried the other, warmly; “he hasn't his equal living; he 's the best-hearted and he's the cleverest fellow I ever met.” And now they both set to, as really only young friends ever do, to extol a loved one with that heartiness that neither knows limit nor measure. What a good fellow he was,--how much of this, without the least of that,--how unspoiled, too, in the midst of the flattery he met with! “If you just saw him as I did a few days back,” said Tony, calling up in memory Skeffy's hearty enjoyment of their humble cottage-life. “If you but knew how they think of him in the Office,” said Blount, whose voice actually trembled as he touched on the holy of holies. “Confound the Office!” cried Tony. “Yes; don't look shocked. I hate that dreary old house, and I detest the grim old fellows inside of it.” “They 're severe, certainly,” muttered the other, in a deprecatory tone. “Severe isn't the name for it. They insult--they outrage--that's what they do. I take it that you and the other young fellows here are gentlemen, and I ask, Why do you bear it,--why do you put up with it? Perhaps you like it, however.” “No; we don't like it,” said he, with an honest simplicity. “Then, I ask again, why do you stand it?” “I believe we stand it just because we can't help it.” “Can't help it!” “What _could_ we do? What would _you_ do?” asked Blount “I 'd go straight at the first man that insulted me, and say, Retract that, or I 'll pitch you over the banisters.”