CHAPTER VII.
This unexpected rebuff from Mr.Labouchere rankled for many days in Andrew's mind.

Had he been proposing for the great statesman's hand he could not have felt it more.

Perhaps he did not make sufficient allowance for Mr.Labouchere; it is always so easy to advise.
But to rage at a man (or woman) is the proof that we can adore them; it is only his loved ones who infuriate a Scotchman.
There were moments when Andrew said to himself that he had nothing more to live for.
Then he would upbraid himself for having gone about it too hurriedly, and in bitter self-contempt strike his hand on the railings, as he rushed by.
Work is the sovereign remedy for this unhealthy state of mind, and fortunately Andrew had a great deal to do.
Gradually the wound healed, and he began to take an interest in Lord Randolph Churchill.
Every day the Flying Scotchman shoots its refuse of clever young men upon London who are too ambitious to do anything.
Andrew was not one of these.
Seeking to carry off one of the greatest prizes in his profession, he had aimed too high for a beginner.
When he realised this he apprenticed himself, so to speak, to the president, determined to acquire a practical knowledge of his art in all its branches.

Though a very young man, he had still much to learn.
It was only in his leisure moments that he gave way to dreams over a _magnum opus_.
But when he did set about it, which must be before his period of probation closed, he had made up his mind to be thorough.
The months thus passed quietly but not unprofitably in assisting the president, acquainting himself with the favourite resorts of interesting persons and composing his thesis.
At intervals the monotony was relieved by more strictly society work.
On these occasions he played a part not dissimilar to that of a junior counsel.
The president found him invaluable in his raid on the gentlemen with umbrellas who read newspapers in the streets.
It was Andrew--though he never got the credit of it--who put his senior in possession of the necessary particulars about the comic writers whose subject is teetotalism and spinsters.
He was unwearying, indeed, in his efforts with regard to the comic journals generally, and the first man of any note that he disposed of was "Punch's" favourite artist on Scotch matters.

This was in an alley off Fleet Street.
Andrew took a new interest in the House of Lords, and had a magnificent scheme for ending it in half an hour.
As the members could never be got together in any number, this fell through.
Lord Brabourne will remember the young man in a straw hat, with his neck covered up, who attended the House so regularly when it was announced that he was to speak.