thing said.
Mr Slow would often beguile his time with unnecessary remarks; but Mr
Bideawhile was so constant in beguiling his time, that men wondered
how, in truth, he ever did anything at all. Of both of them it may be
said that no men stood higher in their profession, and that Mr Ball's
suspicions, had they been known in the neighbourhood of Lincoln's
Inn, would have been scouted as utterly baseless. And, for the
comfort of my readers, let me assure them that they were utterly
baseless. There might, perhaps, have been a little vanity about Mr
Slow as to the names of his aristocratic clients; but he was an
honest, painstaking man, who had ever done his duty well by those who
had employed him.

Is it not remarkable that the common repute which we all give to
attorneys in the general is exactly opposite to that which every man
gives to his own attorney in particular? Whom does anybody trust so
implicitly as he trusts his own attorney? And yet is it not the case
that the body of attorneys is supposed to be the most roguish body in
existence?

The old man seemed now to be a little fretful, and said something
more about his sorrow at their having been sent into that room.

"We are so crowded," he said, "that we hardly know how to stir
ourselves."

Miss Mackenzie said it did not signify in the least. Mr Ball said
nothing, but seated himself with his chin again resting on his
umbrella.

"I was so sorry to see in the papers an account of your brother's
death," said Mr Slow.

"Yes, Mr Slow; he has gone, and left a wife and very large family."

"I hope they are provided for, Miss Mackenzie."

"No, indeed; they are not provided for at all. My brother had not
been fortunate in business."

"And yet he went into it with a large capital,--with a large capital
in such a business as that."

John Ball, with his chin on the umbrella, said nothing. He said
nothing, but he winced as he thought whence the capital had come. And
he thought, too, of those much-meaning words: "Jonathan Ball to John
Ball, junior--Deed of gift."

"He had been unfortunate," said Miss Mackenzie, in an apologetic
tone.

"And what will you do about your loan?" said Mr Slow, looking over
to John Ball when he asked the question, as though inquiring whether
all Miss Mackenzie's affairs were to be talked over openly in the
presence of that gentleman.

"That was a gift," said Miss Mackenzie.

"A deed of gift," thought John Ball to himself. "A deed of