It really was very hard work
pretending to be busy.
"You see, Miss Juliet," he explained with twinkling eyes, "my clients
are all country folk, and it makes them feel more at home to find a
lawyer's office not very different from their own parlor."
She nodded.
"What would the great man say?" she inquired, pointing to the rows of
black tin boxes which lined the walls.
"Sir Wingrave Seton is never likely to come here again, I am afraid,"
he answered. "If he did, I don't think he'd mind. To tell you the
truth, I'm rather proud of my office, young lady!"
She looked around.
"They are nice," she said decidedly, "but unbusinesslike."
"You're going to put up the pony and stay to lunch, of course?" he
said. "I'll ring for the boy."
She stopped him.
"Please don't!" she exclaimed. "I have come to see you--on business!"
Mr. Pengarth, after his first gasp of astonishment, was a different
man. He fumbled about on the desk, and produced a pair of gold
spectacles, which he adjusted with great nicety on the edge of his
very short nose.
"On business, my dear!" he repeated. "Well, well! To be sure! Is it
Miss Harrison who has sent you?"
Mr. Pengarth's visitor looked positively annoyed. She leaned across
the table towards him so that the roses in her large hat almost
brushed his forehead. Her wonderful brown eyes were filled with
reproach.
"Mr. Pengarth," she said, "do you know how old I am?"
"How old, my dear? Why, let me see!" he exclaimed.
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