"All right—but you come and sign the conveyance;" and he moved to Mr. Prentice's end of the table. "I ought to read this—but I suppose I may take it as read."
"Oh, yes, I think so," said Mr. Prentice.
"It's exactly the same as the draft that I passed?"
"Yes, of course."
"I may trust you not to have dabbed in something artful that I'd never heard of?"
"You had better read it," said Prentice curtly, "if you can't trust me."
"Oh, that's all right;" and Marsden laughed. "Now then—where do you want my autograph?"
Still chuckling, he affixed his signature; and, he smiled good-humouredly while the witness filled the attestation space.
Mrs. Marsden had come to the table, and was pulling off a rusty black glove.