After that he pushed his way still higher up the stairs, having no special purpose in view, not dreaming of any such success as that of reaching his host or hostess,—­merely feeling that it should be a point of honour with him to make a tour through the rooms before he descended the stairs.  The thing, he thought, was to be done with courage and patience, and this might, probably, be the last time in his life that he would find himself in the house of a Prime Minister.  Just at the turn of the balustrade at the top of the stairs, he found Mr. Gresham in the very spot on which Mr. Monk had been talking with him.  “Very glad to see you,” said Mr. Gresham.  “You, I find, are a persevering man, with a genius for getting upwards.”

“Like the sparks,” said Phineas.

“Not quite so quickly,” said Mr. Gresham.

“But with the same assurance of speedy loss of my little light.”

It did not suit Mr. Gresham to understand this, so he changed the subject.  “Have you seen the news from America?”

“Yes, I have seen it, but do not believe it,” said Phineas.

“Ah, you have such faith in a combination of British colonies, properly backed in Downing Street, as to think them strong against a world in arms.  In your place I should hold to the same doctrine,—­hold to it stoutly.”

“And you do now, I hope, Mr. Gresham?”

“Well,—­yes,—­I am not down-hearted.  But I confess to a feeling that the world would go on even though we had nothing to say to a single province in North America.  But that is for your private ear.  You are not to whisper that in Downing Street.”  Then there came up somebody else, and Phineas went on upon his slow course.  He had longed for an opportunity to tell Mr. Gresham that he could go to Downing Street no more, but such opportunity had not reached him.

For a long time he found himself stuck close by the side of Miss Fitzgibbon,—­Miss Aspasia Fitzgibbon,—­who had once relieved him from terrible pecuniary anxiety by paying for him a sum of money which was due by him on her brother’s account.  “It’s a very nice thing to be here, but one does get tired of it,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

“Very tired,” said Phineas.

“Of course it is a part of your duty, Mr. Finn.  You are on your promotion and are bound to be here.  When I asked Laurence to come, he said there was nothing to be got till the cards were shuffled again.”

“They’ll be shuffled very soon,” said Phineas.

“Whatever colour comes up, you’ll hold trumps, I know,” said the lady.  “Some hands always hold trumps.”  He could not explain to Miss Fitzgibbon that it would never again be his fate to hold a single trump in his hand; so he made another fight, and got on a few steps farther.

He said a word as he went to half a dozen friends,—­as friends went with him.  He was detained for five minutes by Lady Baldock, who was very gracious and very disagreeable.  She told him that Violet was in the room, but where she did not know.  “She is somewhere with Lady Laura, I believe; and really, Mr. Finn, I do not like it.”  Lady Baldock had heard that Phineas had quarrelled with Lord Brentford, but had not heard of the reconciliation.  “Really, I do not like it.  I am told that Mr. Kennedy is in the house, and nobody knows what may happen.”