II + 

The New Postmaster-General + 

On the next morning, John Thomas was gazetted postmaster-general. He had invented a new farthing postage-stamp, and it was felt that his claims could not be passed over. He expelled the novel and the bottle of brandy from his desk, and found that the exigencies of his new position required him to leave Finsbury Square. But though he was now Lord Thomas, he did not forget Mary Tomkins; for whether he were “my lord” or simply “Johnny Thomas,” he carried a loyal heart in his bosom; and though he may have dallied with Anastasia Fitzapplejohn, such dallying had been but the efflorescence of his youth. So now he spoke out to the lady of his heart with a gravity becoming his lofty rank. + 

“Miss Tomkins,” he said. + 

“My lord,” she replied, standing before him with downcast eyes. + 

“Miss Tomkins, there have been some sweet words between you and me.” + 

“Aye, my lord; and more than words.” + 

“Some passages of what the world calls⁠—love.” + 

“Trifles, my lord; meaning nothing to one so high in the world’s esteem as your lordship.” Then were her eyes more downcast than ever, and her little fingers moved tremulously one over another. + 

“Miss Tomkins,” he said, “lend me that hand.” And she lent him her little hand. He, too, stood awhile, gazing, and then he spoke again. “Miss Tomkins,” he said, “shall it be mine forever?” + 

But she answered him straightway, with more then her usual eagerness, “Never, never, never, never!” + 