And Merriam wished both gentlemen a satisfactory disposition of their business. It was, of course, a perfectly natural thing for him to drop into a law office on a pleasant October morning and, meeting there a connection of his family, hold converse with him on matters of common interest. Michael Carr was not, however, a dull man, and he understood perfectly that Rodney Merriam had decided to resume diplomatic relations with Ezra Dameron; and he rightly guessed the reason to be the return of Margaret Dameron’s daughter to her father’s house.
Merriam found Morris Leighton at work in the library. The young man threw down his book in surprise as the old gentleman darkened the door.
“The date shall be printed in red ink on the office wall! I never expected to see you here!”
“It may never happen again, my boy. I rarely cross Jefferson Street, except on my way to the station. Is this all you have to do, read books? I sometimes wish I had been a lawyer. Nothing to do but read and write; it’s the easiest business there is. I really think it’s easier than preaching, and it’s safer. My father set me apart for the ministry. He was a good man, but a poor guesser.”
“Mr. Carr would like to see you; I’d be glad to call him,—except that this is his morning with Mr. Dameron.”
“To be sure it is; but don’t trouble yourself. I’ve seen both of them, anyhow.”
“Oh!”
“I just happened in and found Mr. Dameron waiting; so I amused him until Mr. Carr appeared. You still have your historic morning round-up here, I suppose. There are two things that you young gentlemen will undoubtedly derive from Mr. Carr,—good manners and sound literary tastes.”
“That’s so; but how about the law?”
“The law isn’t important. My friend Stanley down here knows the law, they say; but if that’s so, it’s clearly a business for stupid men. He’s built up a reputation by solemnly twirling his glasses and looking wise at the judges. Bah! And yet he fools a great many people; there are some who think he knows more than Carr, simply because he always wears a frock coat. You know he got his walk from Judge Paget. Paget was wounded in the war and had a little limp. Stanley has always tried to imitate him as far as a man without brains can imitate a man with good ones. Stanley’s clumsy shuffle is Judge Paget’s limp as near as Stanley can do it. My dear boy, look solemn, get eye-glasses as soon as possible and twirl them on a black ribbon, having at the same time a far-away look in your eyes. It’s effective; there’s millions in it!”