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He'd been a week finding out from you." "Come, come," said Mr. Jayres sharply, "let's get to business." "That's what I said," replied Mrs. Tobey, "while I was putting on my things to come down town. 'Tobey, says I, 'get right to business. Don't be wasting the gentleman's time, which he always does, sir, halting and hesitating and not knowing what to say, nor ever coming to the point.
A couple of tables, a few dilapidated chairs, a pitcher and a basin, were about all the furniture that the room contained. Being elderly and huge, it required far more time for Mr. Jayres to make the ascent to his office than for Bootsey. Having this fact in mind, Bootsey sat down upon the first step of the first flight, intending to wait until Mr.
Jayres and Bootsey was that Bootsey could perform a given distance of which it was the starting-point in at least one-tenth the time required to perform the same distance of which it was the destination. This was odd, but true. After taking leave of the baby and locking it in, all snugly smothered at the bottom of its dry-goods box, Bootsey delivered the key of the room to Mrs.
Mr. Jayres leaned over the bannister and started to call. "Boo " he roared, and then checked himself. "Drat such a name as that," he said. "Who ever heard of a civilized Boy being called Bootsey? What'll people think to see a man of my age hanging over a bannister yelling 'Bootsey'! No, I must go down and hunt him up. I wonder why I keep that Boy? I wonder why I do it?" Mr.
Bootsey left the office with great precipitation, and as he closed the door behind him, Mr. Jayres glared morosely at a knot-hole in the floor. "Funny about that boy!" he said reflectively. "I don't know as I ever gave in to any living human being before that Boy came along in all my life." Mr.
Jayres, "but think also of the fortune. Two millions and a half! Isn't that worth spending a few hundred dollars for? Just put your mind on it, ma'am." "I've had my mind on it ever since I seen your piece in the paper," replied Mrs.
"You unmitigated little rascal!" cried Mr. Jayres, "where've you been?" "Nowhere," said Bootsey, in an injured tone. "Didn't I tell you to get back promptly?" "Aint I a-getting' back?" "Aint you a-get whew!" roared Mr. Jayres, with the utmost exasperation, "how I'd like to tan your plaguey little carcass till it was black and blue! Come on, now," and Mr. Jayres strode angrily ahead.
A dark-blue swallow-tail coat with big buttons and a high collar wrapped his huge body, and over his shoulders hung a heavy mass of black hair, upon which his advanced age had made but a slight impression. His office was upon the top floor of a building in Murray Street. It was a long, low room. Upon its door was fastened a battered tin sign showing the words: "Absalom Jayres, Counsellor."
"Why, we supposed you'd have it all settled," added his wife. "Aint you a lawyer?" "Oh, yes, I'm a lawyer," Mr. Jayres suavely replied, "and I can tell you what your claim is if I know your relationship to Timothy Bugwug. He died in 1672, leaving four children, Obediah, Martin, Ezekiel, and Sarah. Obediah died without issue.
Jayres, "I will; if I don't, the end of it all will be murder. Some time or other I'll be seized of a passion, and there's no telling what'll happen. There's your two dollars to the end of the week now, go!" "Aw, now," said Bootsey, "wot's de use? I aint done nawfin'. 'Fi gets bounced mom'll drub me awful! You said you wanted me to take a letter up to Harlem dis afternoon." "Yes, you scamp!
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