"Oh, Mr. Rushton!"
"Yes, sir; you know not why I present that winter wardrobe to your mother," said the lawyer, triumphantly; "you don't even know that it is my present!"
"How, sir?"
"May I not stop it from your salary, I should like to know, sir?"
And Mr. Rushton scowled at Verty.
"Oh!" said the young man.
"I may do anything—I may have laid a plot to have you arrested for receiving stolen goods," said the shaggy cynic, revelling in the creations of his invention; "I may have wrapped up an infernal machine, sir, in that bundle, which, when you open it, will explode like a cannon, and carry ruin and destruction to everything around!"
This terrific picture caused Verty to open his eyes, and look with astonishment at his interlocutor.
"I may have bought them in to spite that young villain at the store. I heard him," said Mr. Rushton, vindictively—"yes, distinctly heard him whisper, 'There's old Rushton again, come to growl, and not buy anything.' The villain! but I disappointed him; and when he said, "Shall they be sent to your office, sir?" in his odious obsequious voice, I replied, 'No, sir! I am not a dandy or fine gentleman, nor a woman;—you, sir, may be accustomed to have your bundles sent—I carry mine myself.' And so, sir, I took the bundle on my shoulder and brought it away, to the astonishment of that young villain, who, I predict, will eventually come to the gallows!"
And the lawyer, having grown tired of talking, abruptly went into his sanctum, and slammed the door.