Overreach. 'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been
More than a feud, a strange antipathy,
Between us and true gentry.
Mr. Robinson had not forgotten Mrs. Grey, nor the little business which she had confided to him. With his usual tact and judgment he had secured his bird, the bird in this case being their common debtor. Like a clap of thunder, one fine morning the news reached this worthy that his account had been attached at the bank by the man who for some time had acted as his solicitor.
He was on his knees at once with abject entreaties, and Mr. Robinson, who was too Christian-hearted to wish to crush a fellow-creature, consented to act for him again, thereby in a measure restoring his credit, but only on one condition—that he should receive without delay the amount owing for his somewhat exorbitant lawyer's bill.
"But what am I to do, my good sir?" faltered the man; "all I possess is in your hands."
"And nothing much to boast about," replied the lawyer quietly; "but, sir, you will not presume to tell me that all you possess is in the hands of your banker? Pray reflect a moment. In the dealings between man and man, especially when they hold the relation of solicitor and client—a relation which I trust will be resumed between us when this matter is adjusted—there must be frankness, honesty. Come now"—he spoke jovially—"about that fine house of furniture?"
"My wife's, I assure you—bought with her money."
The lawyer's face fell perceptibly: "Settled then?"
"Not precisely, but the same thing; you see it was in fact a wedding-present from her father, a man in an excellent position, Mr. Robinson."
"Ah!" Mr. Robinson showed his teeth. "Law doesn't recognize sentiment, my dear sir—a pity, clearly, but so it is. The furniture is yours to dispose of as you will."