Rosa shook her head, with an almost plaintive air of hesitation in want of help.

‘Is there any instruction that I can take from you with reference to your affairs?’

‘I—I should like to settle them with Eddy first, if you please,’ said Rosa, plaiting the crease in her dress.

‘Surely, surely,’ returned Mr. Grewgious. ‘You two should be of one mind in all things. Is the young gentleman expected shortly?’

‘He has gone away only this morning. He will be back at Christmas.’

‘Nothing could happen better. You will, on his return at Christmas, arrange all matters of detail with him; you will then communicate with me; and I will discharge myself (as a mere business acquaintance) of my business responsibilities towards the accomplished lady in the corner window. They will accrue at that season.’ Blurring pencil once again. ‘Memorandum, “Leave.” Yes. I will now, my dear, take my leave.’

‘Could I,’ said Rosa, rising, as he jerked out of his chair in his ungainly way: ‘could I ask you, most kindly to come to me at Christmas, if I had anything particular to say to you?’

‘Why, certainly, certainly,’ he rejoined; apparently—if such a word can be used of one who had no apparent lights or shadows about him—complimented by the question. ‘As a particularly Angular man, I do not fit smoothly into the social circle, and consequently I have no other engagement at Christmas-time than to partake, on the twenty-fifth, of a boiled turkey and celery sauce with a—with a particularly Angular clerk I have the good fortune to possess, whose father, being a Norfolk farmer, sends him up (the turkey up), as a present to me, from the neighbourhood of Norwich. I should be quite proud of your wishing to see me, my dear. As a professional Receiver of rents, so very few people do wish to see me, that the novelty would be bracing.’

For his ready acquiescence, the grateful Rosa put her hands upon his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and instantly kissed him.

‘Lord bless me!’ cried Mr. Grewgious. ‘Thank you, my dear! The honour is almost equal to the pleasure. Miss Twinkleton, madam, I have had a most satisfactory conversation with my ward, and I will now release you from the incumbrance of my presence.’

‘Nay, sir,’ rejoined Miss Twinkleton, rising with a gracious condescension: ‘say not incumbrance. Not so, by any means. I cannot permit you to say so.’

‘Thank you, madam. I have read in the newspapers,’ said Mr. Grewgious, stammering a little, ‘that when a distinguished visitor (not that I am one: far from it) goes to a school (not that this is one: far from it), he asks for a holiday, or some sort of grace. It being now the afternoon in the—College—of which you are the eminent head, the young ladies might gain nothing, except in name, by having the rest of the day allowed them. But if there is any young lady at all under a cloud, might I solicit—’