“Terence McGuire.”
“That Fibsy!” he said, smiling at the card. “Show him in.”
So in walked Fibsy, into the office of the great lawyer, with an air of self-respect if not self-assurance.
“Judge Hoyt,” he began, without greeting; “I want to talk to you.”
“Very well, Terence, talk ahead.”
“But I want you to listen to what I say, ’thout makin’ fun o’ me. Will you?”
“Yes, I promise you that. But, I must tell you, I am a busy man, and I can’t spare much time this morning.”
“I know it, Judge; I haven’t been with Mr. Trowbridge five years fer nothin’! I know all about business.”
“You know a lot, then.”
“I mean, I know how busy a boss is, an’ how he hates to see anybuddy, ’cept by appointment, an’ all that. Yes, I’ve kep’ up with the guv’nor’s ideas, an’ I’m not the fool I look!”