"I don't think there's a girl in Tavistock Square that can beat Polly,—she's the eldest, called after her mother, you know;—that can beat her at the piano. And Lucy has read Lord Byron and Tom Moore all through, every word of 'em. By Jove, I believe she knows most of Tom Moore by heart. And the young uns are coming on just as well."
"Perhaps, sir, as your time is, no doubt, precious—"
"Just at this time of the day we don't care so much about it, Mr. Crawley; and one doesn't catch a new cousin every day, you know."
"However, if you will allow me,—"
"We'll tackle to? Very well; so be it. Now, Mr. Crawley, let me hear what it is that I can do for you." Of a sudden, as Mr. Toogood spoke these last words, the whole tone of his voice seemed to change, and even the position of his body became so much altered as to indicate a different kind of man. "You just tell your story in your own way, and I won't interrupt you till you've done. That's always the best."
"I must first crave your attention to an unfortunate preliminary," said Mr. Crawley.
"And what is that?"
"I come before you in formâ pauperis." Here Mr. Crawley paused and stood up before the attorney with his hands crossed one upon the other, bending low, as though calling attention to the poorness of his raiment. "I know that I have no justification for my conduct. I have nothing of reason to offer why I should trespass upon your time. I am a poor man, and cannot pay you for your services."
"Oh, bother!" said Mr. Toogood, jumping up out of his chair.
"I do not know whether your charity will grant me that which I ask—"