'I'm sorry for that, for it's a fine wine; but then there's none of it left, you know. I have a few dozen, I'm told they're growing pumpkins where the vineyards were. I wonder what they do with all the pumpkins they grow in Switzerland! You've been to Switzerland, Mr Gresham?'
Frank said he had ben in Switzerland.
'It's a beautiful country; my girls made me go there last year. They said it would do me good; but then you know, they wanted to see it themselves; ha! ha! ha! However, I believe I shall go again this autumn.
That is to Aix, or some of those places; just for three weeks. I can't spare any more time, Mr Gresham. Do you like that dining at the tables d'hote?'
'Pretty well, sometimes.'
'One would get tired of it--eh! But they gave us capital dinners at Zurich. I don't think much of their soup. But they had fish, and about seven kinds of meats and poultry, and three or four puddings, and things of that sort. Upon my word, I thought we did very well, and so did my girls, too. You see a great many ladies travelling now.'
'Yes,' said Frank; 'a great many.'
'Upon my word, I think they are right; that is, if they can afford time.
I can't afford time. I'm here every day till five, Mr Gresham; then I go out and dine in Fleet Street, and then back to work till nine.'
'Dear me! that's very hard.'
'Well, yes it is hard work. My boys don't like it; but I manage somehow. I get down to my little place in the country on Saturday. I shall be most happy to see you there next Saturday.'
Frank, thinking it would be outrageous on his part to take up much of the time of the gentleman who was constrained to work so unreasonably hard, began again to talk about his mortgages, and, in so doing, had to mention the name of Mr Yates Umblelby.
'Ah, poor Umblelby!' said Mr Bideawhile; 'what is he doing now? I am quite sure your father was right, or he wouldn't have done it; but I used to think that Umbleby was a decent sort of man enough. Not so grand, you know, as your Gazebees and Gumptions--eh, Mr Gresham? They do say young Gazebee is thinking of getting into Parliament. Let me see:
Umbleby married--who was it he married? That was the way your father got hold of him; not your father, but your grandfather. I used to know all about it. Well, I was sorry for Umbleby. He has got something, I suppose--eh?'
Frank said that he believed Mr Yates Umbleby had something wherewith to keep the wolf from the door.
'So you have got Gazebee down there now? Gumption, Gazebee & Gazebee: very good people, I'm sure; only, perhaps, they have a little too much on hand to do your father justice.'
'But about Sir Louis Scatcherd, Mr Bideawhile.'
'Well, about Sir Louis; a very bad sort of fellow, isn't he? Drinks--eh?
I knew his father a little. He was a rough diamond, too. I was once down in Northamptonshire, about some railway business; let me see; I almost forget whether I was with him, or against him. But I know he made sixty thousand pounds by one hour's work; sixty thousand pounds! And then he got so mad with drinking that we all thought--'
And so Mr Bideawhile went on for two hours, and Frank found no opportunity of saying one word about the business which had brought him up to town. What wonder that such a man as this should be obliged to stay at his office every night till nine o'clock?
During these two hours, a clerk had come in three or four times, whispering something to the lawyer, who, on the last of such occasions, turned to Frank, saying, 'Well, perhaps that will do for to-day. If you'll manage to call to-morrow, say about two, I will have the whole thing looked up; or, perhaps Wednesday or Thursday would suit you better.' Frank, declaring that the morrow would suit him very well, took his departure, wondering much at the manner in which business was done at the house of Messrs Slow and Bideawhile.
When he called the next day, the office seemed to be rather disturbed, and he was shown quickly into Mr Bideawhile's room. 'Have you heard this?' said that gentleman, putting a telegram into his hands. It contained tidings of the death of Sir Louis Scatcherd. Frank immediately knew that these tidings must be of importance to his father; but he had no idea how vitally they concerned his own more immediate interests.
'Dr Thorne will be up in town on Thursday evening after the funeral,' said the talkative clerk. 'And nothing of course can be done till he comes,' said Mr Bideawhile. And so Frank, pondering on the mutability of human affairs, again took his departure.
He could do nothing now but wait for Dr Thorne's arrival, and so he amused himself in the interval by running down to Malvern, and treating with Miss Dunstable in person for the oil of Lebanon. He went down on the Wednesday, and thus, failed to receive, on the Thursday morning, Mary's letter, which reached London on that day. He returned, however, on the Friday, and then got it; and perhaps it was well for Mary's happiness that he had seen Miss Dunstable in the interval. 'I don't care what your mother says,' said she, with emphasis. 'I don't care for any Harry, whether it be Harry Baker or old Harry himself. You made her a promise, and you are bound to keep it; if not on one day, then on another. What! because you cannot draw back yourself, get out of it by inducing her to do so! Aunt de Courcy herself could not improve upon that.' Fortified in this manner, he returned to town on the Friday morning, and then got Mary's letter. Frank also got a note from Dr Thorne, stating that he had taken up his temporary domicile at the Gray's Inn Coffee-house, so as to be near the lawyers.
