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Updated: June 23, 2025
"I have done my duty to the best of my ability, Mr Butterwell," he said, "and I believe I have done it well. I believe I know my duty here as well as any one can teach me. If I have done more than my share of work, it is because other people have done less than theirs." As he spoke, there was a black cloud upon his brow, and the Commissioner could perceive that the Secretary was very wrathful.
Sir Raffle was a great bully, and the Board was uncommonly glad to be rid of him; but as this was to be his last appearance at the Committee Office, they submitted to his voice meekly. Mr Butterwell was standing close to him, essaying to laugh mildly at Sir Raffle's jokes.
Would not Sir Raffle Buffle have said something had Mr Butterwell, when secretary, come to the office with a black eye? He wished to exercise all the full rights of a chairman; but, nevertheless, as he looked at the secretary he felt embarrassed, and was unable to find the proper words.
Nevertheless, it was the frequently expressed opinion of every clerk in the office that Mr Butterwell hated Mr Crosbie like poison. This was the man to whom Crosbie suddenly made up his mind that he would have recourse. As he was driven back to his office he resolved that he would make a plunge at once at the difficulty.
It must be for not less than three months." Mr Butterwell dropped the paper from his hands, and stared at the secretary over his spectacles. "I Suppose I Must Let You Have It" Crosbie had been preparing the exact words with which he assailed Mr Butterwell for the last quarter of an hour, before they were uttered.
I can do nothing which would not make some mention of her name necessary." "Ah, yes; I see," said Butterwell. "It's very unfortunate; very. I don't know that I can do anything for you. Will you come before the Board to-day?" "Yes; of course I shall," said Crosbie, who was becoming very sore.
Therefore he constructed his notes with a phraseology that bound him to no details. To Butterwell he said that he had had an accident, or rather a row, and that he had come out of it with considerable damage to his frontispiece. He intended to be at the office on the next day, whether able to appear decently there or not.
He had come forward from his standing ground behind his chair to welcome Crosbie, and had shaken his hand cordially. Fiasco also had risen from his seat, and had assured Crosbie in a whisper that he had feathered his nest uncommon well. Then he had sat down again. "Indeed you may, as far as I am concerned," said Butterwell.
The Major said little or nothing; but there was a gleam of satisfied sarcasm in his eye. Things were going wrong at the Board, and he was pleased. Mr Butterwell was exceedingly civil in his demeanour, and rather more than ordinarily brisk. As soon as the regular work of the day was over, Mr Optimist shuffled about on his chair, rising from his seat, and then sitting down again.
He looked the matter straight in the face, and told himself that his fashion must be abandoned; but the office remained to him. He might still rule over Mr Optimist, and make a subservient slave of Butterwell. That must be his line in life now, and to that line he would endeavour to be true. As to his wife and his home, he would look to them for his breakfast, and perhaps his dinner.
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