‘Lucky chap!’ exclaimed Cross. ‘The rest of us don’t often contrive to make business agree so well with pleasure.’
He paused to snigger, and Isaac turned his mild grey eyes inquiringly upon him.
‘Nay, Samuel Cross,’ he remarked, ‘I don’t suppose as you do.’
The slight stress laid upon the personal pronoun appeared to irritate the young gentleman, and he replied with a certain acerbity:
‘There is n’t, as a rule, much pleasure to be found in doing honest business, Mr. Sharpe.’
‘Not among lawyers,’ said Isaac, nodding placidly. ‘So I’ve been told.’
‘There’s others besides lawyers, though,’ cried Samuel, ‘as are n’t so very honest! He! he! You’re a very confiding man, Mr. Sharpe—a very confiding uncle. ’T is n’t everyone in your situation that would care to make such a handsome young man his business-manager where a handsome young woman was concerned. He! he! Your nephew, no doubt, will do the business thoroughly—perhaps a little too thoroughly.’
‘My nevvy,’ returned Isaac loftily, ‘may be trusted to do his dooty, Sam’el. ’T is more nor can be said for many folks as be all for pokin’ their noses where they bain’t wanted!’
Mr. Cross’s always sallow complexion assumed an even more jaundiced hue as he retorted:
‘Most people do no business on Sunday—in England they don’t at least; but I suppose Mr. Richard Marshall has brought foreign notions back with him. He was seen two or three weeks ago doing business with Mrs. Fiander quite as per usual. They were standin’ close together lookin’ over a gate, just as if he and she were keepin’ company. And he was tellin’ her such touchin’ business details that she was actually crying, Mr. Sharpe.’