“You don’t look ill, Jenkins.”
“Don’t I, sir? The Reverend Mr. Yorke met me, to-day—”
“Don’t bring up his name before me!” interrupted Roland, raising his voice to anger. “I may begin to swear, perhaps, if you do.”
“Why, what has he done?” wondered Jenkins.
“Never mind what he has done,” nodded Roland. “He is a disgrace to the name of Yorke. I enjoyed the pleasure of telling him so, the other night, more than I have enjoyed anything a long while. He was so mad! If he had not been a parson, I shouldn’t wonder but he’d have pitched into me.”
“Mr. Roland, sir, you know the parties are waiting for that lease,” Jenkins ventured to remind him.
“Let the parties wait,” rejoined Roland. “Do they think this office is going to be hurried as if it were a common lawyer’s? I say, Jenkins, where has old Galloway taken flight to, this afternoon?”
“He has an appointment with the surrogate,” answered Jenkins. “Oh!—I quite forgot to mention something to you, Mr. Roland.”
“Mention it now,” said Roland.
“A person came this morning, sir, and was rather loud,” said Jenkins, in a tone of deprecation, as if he would apologize for having to repeat the news. “He thought you were in, Mr. Roland, and that I was only denying you, and he grew insolent. Mr. Galloway happened to be in his room, unfortunately, and heard it, and he came out himself, and sent the person away. Mr. Galloway was very angry, and he desired me to tell you, sir, that he would not have that sort of people coming here.”