Brassington, with meaning and simplicity. He had got a blow.
"Meanwhile, John," said Kirby, standing outside and dripping in the rain, "remember it 's doing some other fellow heaps of good. Heaps and heaps and heaps! I should like a drink."
"Come in," said Brassington again.
"Very well," said Kirby as he came in; "but I won't take off my hat."
Mr. Brassington had wine sent for, and Charles Kirby drank.
"It 's too late to drink wine," he said when he had taken three or four glasses. "It 's a good thing that I don't care about the office, isn't it? Good night."
The servant held the door open for him, and Brassington walked off; but when the master of the house was out of sight and hearing, Mr. Kirby stopped abruptly on the steps, and turning to the servant just before the door was shut upon him, said—
"Who did you speak to to-day about your master's overcoat?"
The man was so startled that he blurted out—
"Lord, sir, I never said a word! It was the coachman who spoke to the young
