This address made Mr. Mountford furious. He felt no occasion at all in himself to think of it; it was a brutal argument, and quite beyond all legitimate discussion; but nevertheless it was not pleasant. He did not like the suggestion. ‘Perhaps you’ll call that clerk of yours, and let us finish the business, before we get into fancy and poetry. I never knew you were so imaginative,’ he said, with a sneer; but his lips were bluish, notwithstanding this attempt at disdain. And Mr. Loseby stood with his spectacles pushed up on his forehead, as if with a desire not to see, holding his little bald head high in the air, with a fine indignation in every line of his figure. Heathcote, who was brought in to sign as one of the witnesses, felt that it needed all his consciousness of the importance of what was going on to save him from indecorous laughter. When Mr. Mountford said, ‘I deliver this,’ ‘And I protest against it,’ Mr. Loseby cried, in a vehement undertone, ‘protest against it before earth and heaven.’ ‘Do you mean little Thompson there and Heathcote Mountford?’ said the testator, looking up with a laugh that was more like a snarl. And Heathcote too perceived that his very lips were palish, bluish, and the hand not so steady as usual with which he pushed the papers away. But Mr. Mountford recovered himself with great courage. ‘Now that I have finished my business, we will have time to consider your proposition,’ he said, putting his hand on Heathcote’s shoulder as he got up from his chair. ‘That is, if you have time to think of anything serious in the midst of all this ball nonsense. You must come over for the ball, Loseby, a gay young bachelor like you.’ ‘You forget I am a widower, Mr. Mountford,’ said the lawyer, with great gravity. ‘To be sure; I beg your pardon; but you are always here when there is anything going on; and while the young fools are dancing, we’ll consider this question of the entail.’ ‘I don’t know what he means,’ Mr. Loseby said, some time after taking Heathcote into a corner; ‘consider the question of the entail the moment he has made another will! I’ll tell you what it is--he is repenting already. I thought what I said couldn’t be altogether without effect. St. John Mountford is as obstinate as a pig, but he is not a fool. I thought he must be touched by what I said. That’s how it is; he would not seem to give in to us; but if you agree on this point, it will be a fine excuse for beginning it all over again. That’s a new light--and it’s exactly like him--it’s St. John Mountford all over,’ said the lawyer, rubbing his hands; ‘as full of crotchets as an egg is full of meat--but yet not such a bad fellow after all.’