"
"I am much afraid Sir"--began the managing clerk.
Mr. Meeson jumped up and grabbed his hat. "Now then, which is it to
be?" he said.
"Oh, certainly, Sir; pray be seated," answered the manager in great
alarm--Meeson's business was not a thing to be lightly lost. "I will see
Mr. Todd instantly," and he vanished.
Almost simultaneously with his departure an old lady was unceremoniously
bundled out of an inner room, clutching feebly at a reticule full of
papers and proclaiming loudly that her head was going round and round.
The poor old soul was just altering her will for the eighteenth time in
favor of a brand new charity, highly recommended by Royalty; and to be
suddenly shot from the revered presence of her lawyer out into the outer
darkness of the clerk's office, was really too much for her.
In another minute, Mr. Meeson was being warmly, even enthusiastically,
greeted by Mr. Todd himself. Mr. Todd was a nervous-looking, jumpy little
man, who spoke in jerks and gushes in such a way as to remind one of a
fire-hose through which water was being pumped intermittently.
"How do you do, my dear Sir? Delighted to have this pleasure," he began
with a sudden gush, and then suddenly dried up, as he noticed the
ominous expression on the great man's brow.
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