"One minute, if you please!" rejoins that gentlemen, as the sedate book-keeper turns to his page of N's in the index. Mr. Grabguy will consider that very important point for a few seconds.
"Better drop the Marston, as things are. A good many high feeling connections of that family remain; and to continue the name might be to give pain." This, Graspum says, he only puts out as a suggestion.
"Enter him as you say, gentlemen," interposes the clerk, who will mend his pen while waiting their pleasure.
Mr. Grabguy runs his right hand several times across his forehead, and after a breathless pause, thinks it as well not to connect his distinguished name with that of the nigger,—not just at this moment! Being his property, and associating with his business and people, that will naturally follow. "Just enter him, and make out the bill of sale describing him as the boy Nicholas," he adds.
"Boy Nicholas!" reiterates the book-keeper, and straight-way enters his name, amount fetched, to whom sold, and general description, on his files. In a few minutes more-Graspum, in his chair of state, is regretting having sold so quick,—Mr. Grabguy is handed his bill of sale, duly made out. At the same time, that sedate official places the note for the amount into Graspum's hands. Graspum examines it minutely, while Mr. Grabguy surveys the bill of sale. "Mr. Benson, my clerk here, does these things up according to legal tenour; he, let me inform you, was brought up at the law business, and was rather celebrated once; but the profession won't pay a man of his ability," remarks Graspum, with an "all right!" as he lays the note of hand down for Mr. Grabguy's signature.
Mr. Benson smiles in reply, and adjusts the very stiffly starched corners of his ponderous shirt collar, which he desires to keep well closed around his chin. "An honourable man, that's true, sir, can't live honestly by the law, now-a-days," he concludes, with measured sedateness. He will now get his bill-book, in which to make a record of the piece of paper taken in exchange for the human 'imp.'
"Clap your name across the face!" demands Graspum; and Grabguy seizes a pen, and quickly consummates the bargain by inscribing his name, passing it to Mr. Benson, and, in return, receiving the bill of sale, which he places in his breast pocket. He will not trouble Mr. Benson any further; but, if he will supply a small piece of paper, Mr. Grabguy will very kindly give the imp an order, and send him to his workshop.
"Will the gentleman be kind enough to help himself," says Mr. Benson, passing a quire upon the table at which Mr. Grabguy sits.
"I'll trim that chap into a first-rate mechanic," says Mr. Grabguy, as he writes,—"I have bought the bearer, Nicholas, a promising chap, as you will see. Take him into the shop and set him at something, if it is only turning the grindstone; as I hav'nt made up my mind exactly about what branch to set him at. He's got temper-you'll see that in a minute, and will want some breakin in, if I don't calklate 'rong." This Mr. Grabguy envelopes, and directs to his master mechanic. When all things are arranged to his satisfaction, Nicholas is again brought into his presence, receives an admonition, is told what he may expect if he displays his bad temper, is presented with the note, and despatched, with sundry directions, to seek his way alone, to his late purchaser's workshop.
"Come, boy! ain't you going to say 'good-by' to me 'afore you go? I hav'nt been a bad master to you," says Graspum, putting out his hand.