"Business as usual!" had been Mr Pamphlett's advice to the young man.
"There was, for a day or two--I won't deny it--a certain--er--
tendency to what I may call _nervousness_ in the City. Can we wonder
at it, holding as we do so many--er--threads?" Mr Pamphlett held up
his two hands, and spread them as though they contained a skein of
wool to be unwound. "But the Chancellor of the Exchequer took steps.
Opposed as I am in a general way to the present Government, I am free
to admit that, at this juncture, the Chancellor of the Exchequer
realised his responsibilities and--er--took steps. Markets may--er--
fluctuate for some weeks to come--may, as I would put it, exhibit a
certain amount of--er--unsteadiness. But we shall tide that over,
easily--as I am advised, quite easily. Great Britain's credit is
solid; that's the word, _solid_: and if that--er--solidarity holds
true of our monetary system with"--here Mr Pamphlett expanded and
contracted his fingers as if gathering gossamers--"its delicate and
far-reaching complexities. . . That was an excellent duck, James,"
said he, turning to his brother-in-law. "I don't remember when I've
tasted a better."

"Maria believes in basting, I thank God," said his brother-in-law,
Farmer Pearce acknowledging the compliment. "'Tis a more
enterprisin' life you lead by the sea, if your business calls you
that way. You pick up more money--which is everything in these
days--and you see the ships and yachts going to and fro, and so
forth. But you can't breed ducks for table. Once they get nigh to
tidal water, though it be but to the head of a creek, the flesh turns
fishy, and you can't prevent it. We must set it down to Natur', I
suppose. But inland ducks for me!"

"Maria has a great gift with the stuffing, too. . . . You're spoilt,