. Strange stories about Mr. Crawley had reached Mr
Toogood's household, and that Maria, the mention of whose Christian
name had been so offensive to the clergyman, had begged her husband
not to be a moment late. Poor Mr. Toogood, who on ordinary days did
perhaps take a few minutes' grace, was thus hurried away almost
with his breakfast in his throat, and, as we have seen, just
saved himself. "Perhaps, sir, you are Mr. Crawley?" he said, in a
good-humoured, cheery voice. He was a good-humoured, cheery-looking
man, about fifty years of age, with grizzled hair and sunburnt face,
and large whiskers. Nobody would have taken him to be a partner in
any of those great houses of which we have read in history,--the
Quirk, Gammon and Snaps of the profession, or the Dodson and Foggs,
who are immortal.

"That is my name, sir," said Mr. Crawley, taking off his hat and
bowing low, "and I am here by appointment to meet Mr. Toogood, the
solicitor, whose name I see affixed upon the door-post."

"I am Mr. Toogood, the solicitor, and I hope I see you quite well,
Mr. Crawley." Then the attorney shook hands with the clergyman and
preceded him upstairs to the front room on the first floor. "Here we
are, Mr. Crawley, and pray take a chair. I wish you could have made it
convenient to come and see us at home. We are rather long, as my wife
says,--long in family, she means, and therefore are not very well off
for spare beds--"

"Oh, sir."

"I've twelve of 'em living, Mr. Crawley,--from eighteen years, the
eldest,--a girl, down to eighteen months the youngest,--a boy, and
they go in and out, boy and girl, boy and girl, like the cogs of a
wheel. They ain't such far away distant cousins from your own young
ones--only first, once, as we call it."

"I am aware that there is a family tie, or I should not have ventured
to trouble you."

"Blood is thicker than water, isn't it? I often say that. I heard of
one of your girls only yesterday. She is staying somewhere down in
the country, not far from where my sister lives--Mrs. Eames, the widow
of poor John Eames, who never did any good in this world. I daresay
you've heard of her?"

"The name is familiar to me, Mr. Toogood."

"Of course it is. I've a nephew down there just now, and he saw
your girl the other day;--very highly he spoke of her too. Let me
see;--how many is it you have?"

"Three living, Mr. Toogood."

"I've just four times three;--that's the difference. But I comfort
myself with