“There is a method in its plainness. If you want style, go into Ogden’s and Rivington’s rooms.”
“Why do you have the plain office, Mr. Stirling?”
“I have a lot of plain people to deal with, and so I try to keep my room simple, to put them at their ease. I’ve never heard of my losing a client yet, because my room is as it is, while I should have frightened away some if I had gone in for the same magnificence as my partners.”
“But I say, chum, I should think that is the sort you would want to frighten away. There can’t be any money in their business?”
“We weren’t talking of money. We were talking of people. I am very glad to say, that with my success, there has been no change in my relations with my ward. They all come to me here, and feel perfectly at home, whether they come as clients, as co-workers, or merely as friends.”
“Ho, ho,” laughed Watts. “You wily old fox! See the four bare walls. The one shelf of law books. The one cheap cabinet of drawers. The four simple chairs, and the plain desk. Behold the great politician! The man of the people.”
Peter made no reply. But Leonore said to him, “I’m glad you help the poor people still, Mr. Stirling,” and gave Peter another glimpse of those eyes. Peter didn’t mind after that.
“Look here, Dot,” said Watts. “You mustn’t call chum Mr. Stirling. That won’t do. Call him—um—call him Uncle Peter.”
“I won’t,” said Leonore, delighting Peter thereby. “Let me see. What shall I call you?” she asked of Peter.
“Honey,” laughed Watts.