“So have I, father, and I could not do my duty in that defence if it was a matter of payment. If I take that brief,” he said, solemnly, “my payment is Sage Mallow’s thanks and her children’s prayers.”
The old man sat thinking for a few moments.
“You are right, my boy, you are right,” he said, replacing his bag. “And, of course, all I have is yours. But you will take the brief, Luke, my boy?”
“Yes, father, if I can I will.”
“Then you will,” cried the old man, joyously.
“Hah, let’s look at that. It’s a big one, Luke;” and he picked up, with his eyes sparkling with paternal pride, the brief brought in that morning by Mr Swift. “Hah! this has been altered,” said the old man. “It was twenty-five guineas, and that’s crossed out, and they’ve written fifty. I’ll bet twopence they offered you twenty-five first, and you wouldn’t take it.”
“Quite right, father,” said Luke, upon whom his father’s enjoyment came like so much sunshine in a dull life.
“Quite right, my boy, quite right. Let ’em know your value. You’re a man of business, Luke. Now, what’s this, my boy?”
“I really don’t know, father, only that it is for the prosecution in an important criminal case.”
“Criminal case, eh? And you haven’t studied it, then?”