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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Go on, uncle, I'm all attention," said Ned, attacking slice number four. "This is Moxton's letter. It runs thus "`Dear Sir, I beg to acknowledge receipt of yours of the 5th inst.
In half-an-hour he stood before Moxton's door. There it was, as large as life, and as green as ever. Ned really found it impossible to believe that it was so long since he last saw it. He felt as if it had been yesterday.
"I am, uncle; if you will point out to me how I am to pay the rent and stock the farm, and how I am to carry it on in the meantime without a knowledge of husbandry." "I'll do that for you, all in good time; meanwhile, will you put on your hat, and run down to Moxton's office you remember it?" "That I do," replied Ned, with a smile.
He always struck you as being a particularly well-dressed man, and he had naturally a dashing look about him. Poor fellow! he felt anything but dashing or reckless as he hurried through the crowded streets in the direction of the city that day. Moxton's door was a green one, with a brass knocker and a brass plate, both of which ornaments, owing to verdigris, were anything but ornamental.
"Come along, my lad," cried Mr Shirley, laying down the Bible, and removing his spectacles from a pair of eyes that usually twinkled with a sort of grave humour, but in which there was now an expression of perplexity; "set to work and get the edge off your appetite, and then I'll read Moxton's letter."
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