Christmas stories, English; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"It says," replied Clemency, reading slowly round it as if it were a
tower, "For-get and for-give."
Snitchey and Craggs laughed heartily. "So new!" said Snitchey. "So
easy!" said Craggs. "Such a knowledge of human nature in it," said
Snitchey. "So applicable to the affairs of life," said Craggs.
"And the nutmeg-grater?" inquired the head of the Firm.
"The grater says," returned Clemency, "Do as you--wold--be--done by."
"'Do, or you'll be done brown,' you mean," said Mr. Snitchey.
"I don't understand," retorted Clemency, shaking her head vaguely. "I
a'n't no lawyer."
"I am afraid that if she was, Doctor," said Mr. Snitchey, turning to
him suddenly, as if to anticipate any effect that might otherwise be
consequent on this retort, "she'd find it to be the golden rule of half
her clients. They are serious enough in that--whimsical as your world
is--and lay the blame on us afterwards. We, in our profession, are
little else than mirrors after all, Mr. Alfred; but we are generally
consulted by angry and quarrelsome people, who are not in their best
looks; and it's rather hard to quarrel with us if we reflect unpleasant
aspects. I think," said Mr. Snitchey, "that I speak for Self and
Craggs?"
"Decidedly," said Craggs.
"And so, if Mr. Britain will oblige us with a mouthful of ink," said Mr.
Snitchey, returning to the papers, "we'll sign, seal, and deliver as
soon as possible, or the coach will be coming past before we know where
we are."
If one might judge from his appearance, there was every probability of
the coach coming past before Mr. Britain knew where _he_ was; for he
stood in a state of abstraction, mentally balancing the Doctor against
the lawyers, and the lawyers against the Doctor, and their clients
against both; and engaged in feeble attempts to make the thimble and
nutmeg-grater (a new idea to him) square with anybody's system of
philosophy; and, in short, bewildering himself as much as ever his
great namesake has done with theories and schools. But Clemency, who
was his good Genius--though he had the meanest possible opinion of her
understanding, by reason of her seldom troubling herself with abstract
speculations, and being always at hand to do the right thing at the
right time--having produced the ink in a twinkling, tendered him the
further service of recalling him to himself by the application of her
elbows; with which gentle flappers she so jogged his memory, in a more
literal construction of that phrase than usual, that he soon became
quite fresh and brisk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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