Now, this name had been more or less in Mr Boffin's thoughts all the
morning, and for days before; therefore he said:

'That's singular, too!' unconsciously staring again, past all bounds of
good manners, with the card in his hand. 'Though, by-the-bye, I suppose
it was one of that family that pinted me out?'

'No. I have never been in the streets with one of them.'

'Heard me talked of among 'em, though?'

'No. I occupy my own rooms, and have held scarcely any communication
with them.'

'Odder and odder!' said Mr Boffin. 'Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I
don't know what to say to you.'

'Say nothing,' returned Mr Rokesmith; 'allow me to call on you in a few
days. I am not so unconscionable as to think it likely that you would
accept me on trust at first sight, and take me out of the very street.
Let me come to you for your further opinion, at your leisure.'

'That's fair, and I don't object,' said Mr Boffin; 'but it must be on
condition that it's fully understood that I no more know that I shall
ever be in want of any gentleman as Secretary--it WAS Secretary you
said; wasn't it?'

'Yes.'

Again Mr Boffin's eyes opened wide, and he stared at the applicant from
head to foot, repeating 'Queer!--You're sure it was Secretary? Are you?'

'I am sure I said so.'

--'As Secretary,' repeated Mr Boffin, meditating upon the word; 'I no
more know that I may ever want a Secretary, or what not, than I do that
I shall ever be in want of the man in the moon. Me and Mrs Boffin have
not even settled that we shall make any change in our way of life. Mrs
Boffin's inclinations certainly do tend towards Fashion; but, being
already set up in a fashionable way at the Bower, she may not make
further alterations. However, sir, as you don't press yourself, I wish
to meet you so far as saying, by all means call at the Bower if you
like. Call in the course of a week or two. At the same time, I consider
that I ought to name, in addition to what I have already named, that I
have in my employment a literary man--WITH a wooden leg--as I have no
thoughts of parting from.'

'I regret to hear I am in some sort anticipated,' Mr Rokesmith answered,
evidently having heard it with surprise; 'but perhaps other duties might
arise?'

'You see,' returned Mr Boffin, with a confidential sense of dignity, 'as
to my literary man's duties, they're clear. Professionally he declines
and he falls, and as a friend he drops into poetry.'

Without obser