It may be remarked, that whenever Mr. Sharp was perplexed, it was his habit to run his hands vigorously through his blushing locks, till they stood upon his head erect, and bristled like so many porcupine quills. By the time this was well over his faculties returned, and “Richard was himself again.” To this he had recourse on the present occasion, immediately after which he resumed his usual air of easy assurance.
“I am, as you see,” he remarked affably, “taking my little symposium, in humble imitation of the ancient Greeks and Romans,—‘Champagne,’ as somebody has said, ‘is admirably calculated to clear cobwebs from the brain.’”
“In that case,” dryly returned his client, who could not resist the temptation of a hit at his coadjutor, “I advise you by all means to try it.”
“Truly,” replied Mr. Sharp, who was dimly conscious of the covert sarcasm, but deemed it politic not to notice it directly, “there is no profession that racks the brain like mine, sir. The mightiest intellects of ancient as well as of modern times——”
Mr. Sharp here assumed a standing posture, and was about to pronounce a eulogy upon the different great men who had, during the last twenty centuries, graced the profession which he adorned.
But the lawyer was saved the trouble of proceeding, by the expression of a wish on the part of Lewis to attend to business.
“Certainly, by all means,” said Mr. Sharp, briskly resuming his seat, and drawing before him a sheet of blank paper. “Business before pleasure, or rather, with me, business is pleasure.”
“I have, as you know,” Lewis commenced, “lent the sum of three hundred dollars to Robert Ford, through your agency.”
“And very liberal it was in you, I am sure,” said Mr. Sharp, with benignant approval.
“By no means. I never professed to be a philanthropist, and I freely acknowledge that in this act I was influenced by any but benevolent motives. It was done solely with a view to promote my own interests.”