CHAPTER VI.
A LAWYER'S REVERIE—A VERDANT CLIENT.
A dismal dreary day. The fog had crept slowly over the city and enveloped every object within its reach. There was fog clinging to turrets, spires and towers, fog in the streets, fog in the alleys, fog in the ditches—all was fog. It hurried along utterly regardless of the delicate fabrics that were ruthlessly despoiled by its touch, musing now and then, doubtlessly, on the ingratitude of the fair daughters of St. John who, in the possession of their clear and brilliant complexions forgot to give thanks to the great enhancer.
In the midst of this fog many pedestrians are wandering to and fro, crowding the streets, hurrying along the wharves, hailing vehicles, accosting their friends, and in fact as perfectly happy in their surroundings as though the cheerful, sunshine were illuminating all visible space.
Passing along Prince William street as far as Chubb's Corner we see a familiar form—it is Phillip Lawson. He is enveloped in a gray Mackintosh and his soft felt hat is worn with an air of careless ease that is more becoming than otherwise.
"Chubb's Corner" had lost its charm for the young lawyer. He did not stop to consult stocks, exchanges, debentures or any such business, but merely nodding to an acquaintance or so crossed the street and wended his steps to the lawyers' nests—nests from the fact that in this, locality they hatched all the schemes by which to victimize their unwary clients.
But of our friend. He gained his apartments, and throwing aside the outer garment, sat down at his desk and drawing his hand across his forehead, began to think. "I want to see nobody for the next hour," murmured the young man, his brows contracting as he spoke.
A deep shade settled upon the usually mild countenance. A question of momentous importance was to be decided. "To be or not to be" was the final answer. Each solution involved a corresponding number of conflicting doubts and anxieties, and left scarcely any choice in the mind of the reasoner.
"No doubt it's a good field for a beginner in life. St. John has more lawyers than would start a colony. Some of us must go to the wall, and I don't fancy being one of that number."
This was the sunny side of Phillip's reflection. He was trying to cheat himself into the belief that "green fields and pastures new" were panacea for all other grievances, and that that was the goal of his ambition.
"Yes, it's a good 'spec'; but why is the fellow so anxious for me to get it? Still I would like to hear more of the matter before I question the motives."
The young lawyer was aware of the fact that Hubert Tracy had been using his influence for another a short time previous, and he could not see his motives for such change of opinion. True, a sudden intimacy had sprung up between them, but the subject had been hitherto mentioned and acted upon; therefore the last reason formed no groundwork for his convictions.
Occasionally a dark thought crossed Phillip Lawson's mind. Can the fellow be honest? I cannot bear to think ill of a fellow-man, and I must not now. I know that Tracy is not what he might be, yet he has a kind heart and what's the use of my talking, who is faultless? "Let him that is without sin cast the first stone."
It was here that the beauty of Phillip Lawson's character showed itself. The young man was a Christian. He had always cherished the principles of true piety, and as he repeated over the words of Him who was the friend of sinners, it was in tones of sublime tenderness.
Instantly a second thought flashed across his mind—he had an acquaintance—a member of a legal firm in that newly-founded city in the Northwest. He, therefore, made up his mind to write at an early date and make all the necessary inquiries.
Having settled his mind upon this point another subject presented itself to our friend, and from the sudden flash of his grey eyes one would imagine that it was of an electrifying nature.
It is one, which, from the remote ages, has had power to magnetize, humanize and civilize; it is the power which makes man what he should be—love—that short word of four letters—what a world of thought it embraces—it held the heart of Phillip Lawson at will, and despite his power of self-control he was often the victim of its vagaries.
But the lawyer had not long time to indulge in such thoughts. A knock aroused him.
"Come-in."
A stalwart looking youth of muscular build (with suit of grey homespun not cut exactly in the proportions of that of a dude) stood upon the threshold with a look upon his florid face that betrayed some embarrassment.
"You be Mr. Lawson the lawyer, sir."
"Yes, sir," said the young practitioner, a smile lighting up his face and making him an interlocutor not to be dreaded by the most unsophisticated client.
"'Spose I needn't ask, be you pretty well posted in law?" queried the individual on taking his seat, at the same time pulling out an enormous expanse of red and yellow cotton, called by way of courtesy a handkerchief, which he vigorously switched across his face as though a swarm of mosquitoes were on the aggressive, and kept the field unflinchingly.
"What is the cause of complaint, sir?" ventured the interested lawyer, scarcely able to repress a smile.
"Well, sir, to come to the pint at once, as you fellers allus happin to say, since I was knee-hight of a grasshopper I had a hankerin' after the law, and allus envied tother fellers when they'd to go to the 'Squire's on trials, and I tell you they thought themselves some punkins when they got a day's wages for goin'"—
"Of your question at issue," interrupted our legal friend, "I mean on what point do you wish to consult me, sir?"
"Well, sir, as I told you before, I'm comin' straight to the pint," replied the youth, giving the aforesaid bandana a more vigorous switch in the direction of his interrogator, then continued, "and, firstly (as them lecturin' fellers say) I allus thought I'd like mighty well to have a trial myself, and bring some un up to the scratch; and I've jest got my wish, and if it costs all dad's worth I'll make 'em sweat!
"Are you a minor, sir?" demanded the lawyer.
"No, sir; I'm no relative to them miners, nor don't want to be, tho' Sally Ann is allus taggin' arter me, and would like terrible well to hitch on to me; but I tell you, 'Squire, I'm not so green as they think, though I'm mighty fond of buckwheat."
This last speech was too much tax on the risibility of the "'Squire," as familiarly dubbed by the would-be client, and after some merriment, explained the tenor of his question, assuring the youth that it bore no allusion to "Sally Ann."
After the young lawyer had taxed his ingenuity to draw the verdant client "to the point" he learned that the cause of complaint was directed against one Joshua Jones, who had given himself an invitation to haul off some cedar poles claimed to be the property of the said Mose Spriggins, and the said Mose wished indemnification right speedily.
"Tell you what 'Squire I'll put him fur as the law will carry it, and if you can slap on plenty of cost 'Squire, it'll do me more good than eaten my supper."
"I shall do the best I can for you sir," said the young man, carefully noting the points which Mose brought to bear on the matter.
"Well now 'Squire, suppose you want your wages for this 'eer job.
What's your price?"
Mose now produced a complicated piece of mechanism from his expansive waistcoat pocket. It might have been constructed for a three-fold purpose—for money, pipes and tobacco. The odoriferous exhalation giving strong evidence of the latter commodity.
"Well 'Squire, you fellers earn your livin' mighty easy," exclaimed
Mose, tendering the five dollar bill into the lawyer's hand.
The latter smiled, pocketed the fee and commenced writing the letter to the defendant Joshua Jones.
"Now sir, if this thing works well, I don't grudge ye the money 'Squire, and any time I have somethin' more in the law business I'll throw it your way, for I think you a squarer sort of a chap than them ere gang further up the street. I tell you they're sharpers, they fleeced dad last summer and I wasn't agoin' to be so green, eh 'Squire?"
"Well Mr. Spriggins, I shall always try to work to your satisfaction any time you are in need of advice," returned our friend, rising from the desk and going toward the window.
Mr. Spriggins thought he would soon be ready for "startin'" and also rose up, in the meantime depositing the before-mentioned wallet in his waistcoat pocket. Silence reigned in the lawyer's office for three minutes, when the door was reopened and Mose Spriggins' rubicund face once more adorned the apartment.
"Say, 'Squire, aint there a new kind of insurance consarn 'round these diggins? I'm thinkin' of gittin' my life insured—not 'cause there's any kinsumption in our fam'ly, only there's no tellin' when a feller might peg out. Tell you, 'Squire, I'm sound as a bell."
Mr. Spriggins turned himself around for inspection, and shrugged his broad shoulders with an air of evident self-esteem.
A lengthy speech might have followed, but our legal friend averted
the catastrophe by informing his client that the Dominion Safety
Fund office was close at hand, and with quiet mien escorted the said
Mr. Spriggins to the door.
A genial "come in" answered the summons of the applicant, and in another chapter we will be able to inform the reader how the veritable Mr. Spriggins was sent home rejoicing from the fact that he had become insured in the Safety Fund.
Phillip Lawson was re-established at his desk, and not wishing to allow his thoughts to wander to the subject which had hitherto occupied them, took up a novel that lay upon the opposite shelf. It was one of George Eliot's masterpieces—Daniel Deronda. Its depth of thought and richness in the sublime and beautiful theories as regards the Jewish dispensation had a charm for the talented scholar, and he read for more than an hour, deeply buried in the inspired words of the gifted author—one who will occupy a deep niche in the inmost recesses of all hearts, so long as the literature bearing her impress shall make its way in all tongues and through every clime! Presently a light, well-known step greets the reader's ears, and a trim little maiden, with waterproof, heavy boots, and umbrella in the foreground, presents herself upon terms of much familiarity.
"And my dear old Phillip, how happy you look in here! Why, its fearfully disagreeable out to-day, and you look as contented as if the room was heated only by the sunshine, while I am really shivering with the dampness and fog."
"Well, little woman, what brought you out to-day?" exclaimed the indulgent brother, stroking the fair hair of his pet sister as she stood beside him, looking into his face with a look of pure devotion—a look which showed that her brother was her world, and in his face shone all that was good and true in her eyes.
Lottie Lawson was a child of a sweet and tender nature. She had been watched over by a model mother, and this earnest mother's prayers had not fallen unanswered.
"God grant that the woman be a living realization of the child," was the fervent prayer that dwelt upon Phillip Lawson's lips, as he drew the child towards him and tenderly kissed the fair forehead.
"You wonder why I am out to-day, brother Phillip; I came on a message from Kitty."
The latter was the house-maid, and the young man smiled as he thought of the force of character which constituted this efficient maid of all works.
"Oh, I see now, there is some excuse for you. What are Miss Kitty's demands to-day?"
"She is having a new dress made and wished me to select some samples for trimmings, and as she wants to wear the dress home next Sunday, I had to go to-day."
"Yes, that is all right; Kitty's wishes must be attended to," said
Phillip, with an air of much gravity.
"Will you soon be ready to go with me Phillip. I shall wait for you. It is just such a day as needs your dear old self to drive the gloom from the back parlor."
The little maiden had not long to wait for an answer, as the young lawyer took down his mackintosh, and in a very short time the pair were to be seen walking at a quick pace along Charlotte street, through King Square and out beyond the limits of the old church-yard.
A neat and cosy cottage is reached, and a tidy looking domestic answers the summons and smiles graciously as the coveted samples are placed in her hand while she receives a full explanation of the prices and the additional advice of Miss Lottie thrown in as extras. The cottage has an air of neatness throughout. Its windows filled with choice plants and gorgeous foliage lend a charm that impresses one with the taste of the inmates. The spotless purity of the muslin curtains and the transparency of the windows bespeak the thorough cleanliness and comfort of this home-like little nest. And the inviting parlor: it's furniture was neither elegant nor costly. The plain mahogany chairs and straight-backed old-fashioned sofa were well preserved. Not a particle of dust could be seen without the aid of a microscope. And the beautifully polished andirons which had done service in the family for many years, and seemed to assume an air of importance over the less attractive articles grouped around. A pretty little work-table with writing-desk combined stood at the left side of the hearth. It was a gift from Phillip Lawson to sister Lottie. It was the child's favorite seat, and that fact repaid the brother more than the most extravagant praise.
The upright piano was not neglected. Piles of music lay near, and the well-worn rug beneath showed that music had its charms for the members of this household.
Reader, we will not weary you with minute details, but merely say, such was the home of Phillip Lawson. In this abode he could look back to a country home, with which, as the haughty Evelyn Verne said, "you could associate hayseed." But did that fact lesson the reputation of this gifted scholar?
Nay; the sons of the soil are in reality the "lords of creation." They have the first and highest calling, and ere the proud beauty had passed through all the ordeals of life, she hastily repented of the bitter and sarcastic words.