Lawyer Pleadwell doubled up his glasses, slipped them into a morocco case, and slipped the case into his vest-pocket. His object was accomplished.
“Tom,” he said, “you’re a wise lad. If you keep on in this way, you’ll make a lawyer; and a lawyer, with so evenly balanced a conscience as yours, will be a credit to the profession.”
Tom was not quite sure whether this was intended for a compliment or not, so he simply said, “Yes, sir.”
Pleadwell reached across the table for his high silk hat, motioned to Carolan to follow him, and went out, saying to Tom as he went,—
“You stay here and amuse yourself; we’ll be back shortly.”
Tom sat there alone quite still. His mind was in a tumult. Is it right? Is it right? Some unseen presence kept crowding the question in upon him.
What would Bennie say to it?
What would Mommie say to it?
Yet there were no lies to be told; he was simply to hold his tongue.