Our hero’s friends were, I think, almost more elated by our hero’s promotion than was our hero himself. He never told himself that it was a great thing to be a junior lord of the Treasury, though he acknowledged to himself that to have made a successful beginning was a very great thing. But his friends were loud in their congratulations — or condolements as the case might be.

He had his interview with Mr Mildmay, and, after that, one of his first steps was to inform Mrs Bunce that he must change his lodgings. “The truth is, Mrs Bunce, not that I want anything better; but that a better position will be advantageous to me, and that I can afford to pay for it.” Mrs Bunce acknowledged the truth of the argument, with her apron up to her eyes. “I’ve got to be so fond of looking after you, Mr Finn! I have indeed,” said Mrs Bunce. “It is not just what you pays like, because another party will pay as much. But we’ve got so used to you, Mr Finn — haven’t we?” Mrs Bunce was probably not aware herself that the comeliness of her lodger had pleased her feminine eye, and touched her feminine heart, Had anybody said that Mrs Bunce was in love with Phineas, the scandal would have been monstrous. And yet it was so — after a fashion. And Bunce knew it — after his fashion. “Don’t be such an old fool,” he said, “crying after him because he’s six foot high.” “I ain’t crying after him because he’s six foot high,” whined the poor woman — “but one does like old faces better than new, and a gentleman about one’s place is pleasant.” “Gentleman be d — d, said Bunce. But his anger was excited, not by his wife’s love for Phineas, but by the use of an objectionable word.

Bunce himself had been on very friendly terms with Phineas, and they two had had many discussions on matters of politics, Bunce taking up the cudgels always for Mr Turnbull, and generally slipping away gradually into some account of his own martyrdom. For he had been a martyr, having failed in obtaining any redress against the policeman who had imprisoned him so wrongfully. The People’s Banner had fought for him manfully, and therefore there was a little disagreement between him and Phineas on the subject of that great organ of public opinion. And as Mr Bunce thought that his lodger was very wrong to sit for Lord Brentford’s borough, subjects were sometimes touched which were a little galling to Phineas.

Touching this promotion, Bunce had nothing but condolement to offer to the new junior lord. “Oh yes,” said he, in answer to an argument from Phineas, “I suppose there must be lords, as you call ’em; though for the matter of that I can’t see as they is of any mortal use.”

“Wouldn’t you have the Government carried on?”

“Government! Well; I suppose there must be government. But the less of it the better. I’m not against government — nor yet against laws, Mr Finn; though the less of them, too, the better. But what does these lords do in the Government? Lords indeed! I’ll tell you what they do, Mr Finn. They wotes; that’s what they do! They wotes hard; black or white, white or black. Ain’t that true? When you’re a “lord,” will you be able to wote against Mr Mildmay to save your very soul?”

“If it comes to be a question of soul-saving, Mr Bunce, I shan’t save my place at the expense of my conscience.”

“Not if you knows it, you mean. But the worst of it is that a man gets so thick into the mud that he don’t know whether he’s dirty or clean. You’ll have to wote as you’re told, and of course you’ll think it’s right enough. Ain’t you been among Parliament gents long enough to know that that’s the way it goes?”

“You think no honest man can be a member of the Government?”

“I don’t say that, but I think honesty’s a deal easier away from ’em. The fact is, Mr Finn, it’s all wrong with us yet, and will be till we get it nigher to the great American model. If a poor man gets into Parliament — you’ll excuse me, Mr Finn, but I calls you a poor man.”

“Certainly — as a member of Parliament I am a very poor man.”

“Just so — and therefore what do you do? You goes and lays yourself out for government! I’m not saying as how you’re anyways wrong. A man has to live. You has winning ways, and a good physognomy of your own, and are as big as a life-guardsman.” Phineas as he heard this doubtful praise laughed and blushed. “Very well; you makes your way with the big wigs, lords and earls and them like, and you gets returned for a rotten borough — you’ll excuse me, but that’s about it, ain’t it? — and then you goes in for government! A man may have a mission to govern, such as Washington and Cromwell and the like o’ them. But when I hears of Mr Fitzgibbon a-governing, why then I says — d — n it all.”

“There must be good and bad you know.”

“We’ve got to change a deal yet, Mr Finn, and we’ll do it. When a young man as has liberal feelings gets into Parliament, he shouldn’t be snapped up and brought into the governing business just because he’s poor and wants a salary. They don’t do it that way in the States; and they won’t do it that way here long. It’s the system as I hates, and not you, Mr Finn. Well, goodbye, sir. I hope you’ll like the governing business, and find it suits your health.”

These condolements from Mr Bunce were not pleasant, but they set him thinking. He felt assured that Bunce and Quintus Slide and Mr Turnbull were wrong. Bunce was ignorant. Quintus Slide was dishonest. Turnbull was greedy of popularity. For himself, he thought that as a young man he was fairly well informed. He knew that he meant to be true in his vocation. And he was quite sure that the object nearest to his heart in politics was not self-aggrandisement, but the welfare of the people in general. And yet he could not but agree with Bunce that there was something wrong. When such men as Laurence Fitzgibbon were called upon to act as governors, was it not to be expected that the ignorant but still intelligent Bunces of the population should — “d — n it all’?

On the evening of that day he went up to Mrs Low’s, very sure that he should receive some encouragement from her and from her husband. She had been angry with him because he had put himself into a position in which money must be spent and none could be made. The Lows, especially Mrs Low, had refused to believe that any success was within his reach. Now that he had succeeded, now that he was in receipt of a salary on which he could live and save money, he would be sure of sympathy from his old friends the Lows!

But Mrs Low was as severe upon him as Mr Bunce had been, and even from Mr Low he could extract no real comfort. “Of course I congratulate you,” said Mr Low coldly.

“And you, Mrs Low?”

“Well, you know, Mr Finn, I think you have begun at the wrong end. I thought so before, and I think so still. I suppose I ought not to say so to a Lord of the Treasury, but if you ask me, what can I do?”

“Speak the truth out, of course.”

“Exactly. That’s what I must do. Well, the truth is, Mr Finn, that I do not think it is a very good opening for a young man to be made what they call a Lord of the Treasury — unless he has got a private fortune, you know, to support that kind of life.”

“You see, Phineas, a ministry is such an uncertain thing,” said Mr Low.

“Of course it’s uncertain — but as I did go into the House, it’s something to have succeeded.”

“If you call that success,” said Mrs Low.

“You did intend to go on with your profession,” said Mr Low. He could not tell them that he had changed his mind, and that he meant to marry Violet Effingham, who would much prefer a parliamentary life for her husband to that of a working barrister. “I suppose that is all given up now,” continued Mr Low.

“Just for the present,” said Phineas.

“Yes — and for ever I fear,” said Mrs Low. You’ll never go back to real work after frittering away your time as a Lord of the Treasury. What sort of work must it be when just anybody can do it that it suits them to lay hold of? But of course a thousand a year is something, though a man may have it for only six months.”

It came out in the course of the evening that Mr Low was going to stand for the borough vacated by Mr Mottram, at which it was considered that the Conservatives might possibly prevail. “You see, after all, Phineas,” said Mr Low, “that I am following your steps.”

“Ah; you are going into the House in the course of your profession.”

“Just so,” said Mrs Low.

“And are taking the first step towards being a Tory Attorney-General.”

“That’s as may be,” said Mr Low. But it’s the kind of thing a man does after twenty years of hard work. For myself, I really don’t care much whether I succeed or fail. I should like to live to be a Vice-Chancellor. I don’t mind saying as much as that to you. But I’m not at all sure that Parliament is the best way to the Equity Bench.”

“But it is a grand thing to get into Parliament when you do it by means of your profession,” said Mrs Low.

Soon after that Phineas took his departure from the house, feeling sore and unhappy. But on the next morning he was received in Grosvenor Place with an amount of triumph which went far to compensate him. Lady Laura had written to him to call there, and on his arrival he found both Violet Effingham and Madame Max Goesler with his friend. When Phineas entered the room his first feeling was one of intense joy at seeing that Violet Effingham was present there. Then there was one of surprise that Madame Max Goesler should make one of the little party. Lady Laura had told him at Mr Palliser’s dinner-party that they, in Portman Square, had not as yet advanced far enough to receive Madame Max Goesler — and yet here was the lady in Mr Kennedy’s drawing-room. Now Phineas would have thought it more likely that he should find her in Portman Square than in Grosvenor Place. The truth was that Madame Goesler had been brought by Miss Effingham — with the consent, indeed, of Lady Laura, but with a consent given with much of hesitation. “What are you afraid of?” Violet had asked. “I am afraid of nothing,” Lady Laura had answered; but one has to choose one’s acquaintance in accordance with rules which one doesn’t lay down very strictly.” “She is a clever woman,” said Violet, “and everybody likes her; but if you think Mr Kennedy would object, of course you are right.” Then Lady Laura had consented, telling herself that it was not necessary that she should ask her husband’s approval as to every new acquaintance she might form. At the same time Violet had been told that Phineas would be there, and so the party had been made up.

““See the conquering hero comes,”” said Violet in her cheeriest voice.

“I am so glad that Mr Finn has been made a lord of something,” said Madame Max Goesler. “I had the pleasure of a long political discussion with him the other night, and I quite approve of him.”

“We are so much gratified, Mr Finn,” said Lady Laura. “Mr. Kennedy says that it is the best appointment they could have made, and papa is quite proud about it.”

“You are Lord Brentford’s member; are you not?” asked Madame Max Goesler. This was a question which Phineas did not quite like, and which he was obliged to excuse by remembering that the questioner had lived so long out of England as to be probably ignorant of the myths, and theories, and system, and working of the British Constitution. Violet Effingham, little as she knew of politics, would never have asked a question so imprudent.

But the question was turned off, and Phineas, with an easy grace, submitted himself to be petted, and congratulated, and purred over, and almost caressed by the three ladies. Their good-natured enthusiasm was at any rate better than the satire of Bunce, or the wisdom of Mrs Low. Lady Laura had no misgivings as to Phineas being fit for governing, and Violet Effingham said nothing as to the short-lived tenure of ministers. Madame Max Goesler, though she had asked an indiscreet question, thoroughly appreciated the advantage of Government pay, and the prestige of Government power. “You are a lord now,” she said, speaking, as was customary with her, with the slightest possible foreign accent, “and you will be a president soon, and then perhaps a secretary. The order of promotion seems odd, but I am told it is very pleasant.”

“It is pleasant to succeed, of course,” said Phineas, “let the success be ever so little.”

“We knew you would succeed,” said Lady Laura. We were quite sure of it. Were we not, Violet?”

“You always said so, my dear. For myself I do not venture to have an opinion on such matters. Will you always have to go to that big building in the corner, Mr Finn, and stay there from ten till four? Won’t that be a bore?”

“We have a half-holiday on Saturday, you know,” said Phineas.

“And do the Lords of the Treasury have to take care of the money?” asked Madame Max Goesler.

“Only their own; and they generally fail in doing that,” said Phineas.

He sat there............