“What! Ah, no, my good sir, not Mr. Charles Newman, a member of the University of Oxford!”
“Yes, sir, I am that individual,” replied Cradock, very uncomfortable at the prominent use of his “alias.”
“Then, allow me, sir, to shake hands with you. I am strongly prepossessed in your favour, young gentleman, from the description I received of you from our mutual friend, Mr. Clinkers. Ah, I like that Clinkers. No nonsense about Clinkers, sir.”
“So I believe,” said Cradock; “but, as I have only seen him once, it would perhaps be premature of me——”
“Not a bit, my dear sir, not a bit. That is one of the mistakes we make. I always rely upon first impressions, and they never deceive me. Now I see exactly what you are, an upright honourable man, full of conscientiousness, but not overburdened here.”
He gave a jocular tap to his forehead, which was about half the width of Cradockʼs.
“Well,” thought Cradock, “you are straightforward, even to the verge of rudeness. But no doubt you mean well, and perhaps you are nearer the truth than the people who have told me otherwise. Anyhow, it does not matter much.” But, in spite of this conclusion, he bowed in his stately manner, and said:
“If that be the case, sir, I fear it will hardly suit your purpose to take me into your employment.”
“Ah, I have hurt your feelings, I see. I am so blunt and hasty. Hearty Wibraham is my name; and hearty enough I am, God knows; and perhaps a little too hearty. ‘Hasty Wibraham, you ought to be called, by Jove, you ought,’ said one of my friends last night, and by Gad I think he was right, sir.”
“I am sure I donʼt know,” said Cradock; “how can I pretend to say, without myself being hasty?”