re when one is
fortunate. I fancy a great deal of nonsense is talked about the world's
enviousness. Now as soon as it got known that I was coming to this post
in London, people behaved to me with surprising good nature all round.
Old Bennet talked in quite an affectionate strain. "Of course," he
said, "I have long known that you ought to be in a better place than
this; your payment is altogether inadequate; if it had depended upon
_me_, I should long ago have increased it. I truly rejoice that you
have found a more fitting sphere for your remarkable abilities." No; I
maintain that the world is always ready to congratulate you with
sincerity, if you will only give it a chance.'

'Very gracious of you to give it the chance. But, by-the-bye, how did
it come about?'

'Yes, I ought to tell you that. Why, about a year ago, I wrote an
answer to a communication signed by a Big Gun in one of the scientific
papers. It was a question in Probability--you wouldn't understand it.
My answer was printed, and the Big Gun wrote privately to me--a very
flattering letter. That correspondence led to my appointment; the Big
Gun exerted himself on my behalf. The fact is, the world is bursting
with good nature.'

'Obviously. And how long did it take you to write this little book?'

'Oh, only about seven years--the actual composition. I never had much
time to myself, you must remember.'

'You're a good soul, Thomas. Go and equip yourself for civilized
society.'

To the club they repaired on foot. Micklethwaite would talk of anything
but that which his companion most desired to hear.

'There are solemnities in life,' he answered to an impatient question,
'things that can't be spoken of in the highway. When we have eaten, let
us go to your flat, and there I will tell you everything.'

They lunched joyously. The mathematician drank a bottle of excellent
hock, and did corresponding justice to the dishes. His eyes gleamed
with happiness; again he enlarged upon the benevolence of mankind, and
the admirable ordering of the world. From the club they drove to
Bayswater, and made themselves comfortable in Barfoot's flat, which was
very plainly, but sufficiently, furnished. Micklethwaite, cigar in
mouth, threw his legs over the side of the easy-chair in which he was
sitting.

'Now,' he began gravely, 'I don't mind telling you that your conjecture
was right. I _am_ going to be married.'

'Well,' said the other, 'you have reached the age of dis