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I shall be happy to take your nephew on trial, and, if I find him steady, shall enter into an engagement with him, I need not add that unremitting application to business is the only road to distinction in the profession he is desirous of adopting. Let him call at my office to-morrow between ten and twelve. Yours very truly, Daniel Moxton."
"From nine a.m. till nine p.m., with an interval for meals," said Mr Moxton, sharply; "but we usually continue at work till eleven at night, sometimes later. Good-morning." Ned fell to zero, and found himself in the street, with an indistinct impression of having heard the dishevelled clerk chuckling vociferously as he passed through the office.
Ned felt, so to speak, like a thermometer which was falling rapidly. "Can I see Mr Moxton?" he inquired of a small dishevelled clerk, who sat on a tall stool behind a high desk, engaged in writing his name in every imaginable form on a sheet of note paper. The dishevelled clerk pointed to a door which opened into an inner apartment, and resumed his occupation. Ned tapped at the door indicated.
"Ah, yes, they're all ready," interrupted the lawyer, advancing to the table. "Tell your uncle that I shall be glad to hear from him again in reference to the subject of those papers; and take care of them they are of value. Good-morning!" "Good-morning!" replied our hero, retreating. "Stay!" said Moxton. Ned stopped, and turned round.
Ned tapped as of yore. "Come in," cried a stern voice as of ditto. "Ah!" exclaimed Moxton, "you're young Sinton, I suppose?" Ned almost started at the perfect reproduction of events, and questions, and answers. He felt a species of reckless incredulity in reference to everything steal over him, as he replied "Yes; I came, at my uncle's request, for some papers that "
You'd find it worth your while to go, sir." Had Edward Sinton advised Mr Moxton to go and rent an office in the moon, he could scarcely have surprised that staid gentleman more than he did by this suggestion. The lawyer gazed at him for one moment in amazement. Then he said "These papers are of value, young man: be careful of them. Good-morning " and sat down at his desk to write.
"At least!" said Mr Moxton, with a sarcastic expression that was meant for smile, perhaps for a grin. "Why, that's the most you could say of it. No hand is good, sir, if it is not legible, and no hand can possibly be bad that is legible. Have you studied law?" "No, sir, I have not." "Umph! you're too old to begin. Have you been used to sit at the desk?"
The dingy little office, with its insufficient allowance of daylight, and its compensating mixture of yellow gas, was inhabited by the same identical small dishevelled clerk who, nearly two years before, was busily employed in writing his name interminably on scraps of paper, and who now, as then, answered to the question, "Can I see Mr Moxton?" by pointing to the door which opened into the inner apartment, and resuming his occupation the same occupation writing his name on scraps of paper.
Mr Moxton looked a little surprised at the question, but pointed to the outer office where the dishevelled clerk sat, and said, "There." Ned fell to twenty below the freezing-point. "And pray, sir," he continued, "may I ask what are office-hours?"
"You've been in California, since I last saw you, I understand?" "I have," replied Ned. "Umph! You haven't made your fortune, I fancy?" "No, not quite." "It's a wild place, if all reports are true?" "Rather," replied Ned, smiling; "there's a want of law there." "Ha! and lawyers," remarked Moxton, sarcastically.
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