"Well, I wish it would stop," said Brownlow, "for I'm nearly worried to death with clients writing to see him and trying to invent excuses, and my work is doubled."
"So's mine," said Balls. He went out and Brownlow continued his business. He had not been engaged on it for long when Morgan, the office-boy, appeared.
"Mr. Tidd, sir, to see Mr. Pettigrew."
"Show him in," said Brownlow.
A moment later Mr. Tidd appeared.
Mr. Tidd was a small, slight, old-maidish man; he walked lightly, like a bird, and carried a tall hat with a black band in one hand and a tightly-folded umbrella in the other. Incidentally he was one of Pettigrew's best clients.
"Good morning," said Mr. Tidd. "I've called to see Mr. Pettigrew with regard to those papers."
"Oh yes," said Brownlow. "Sit down, Mr. Tidd. Those papers—Mr. Pettigrew has been considering them."
"Is not Mr. Pettigrew in?"