"This place makes me go to sleep," said the boy. "How dull it is!" "Dull! do you call this office dull? No, sir, as long as I am here this place is sprightly and even poetical." "Anan?" said Verty. "Which means, in Iroquois or some barbarous language, that you don't understand," replied Mr. Roundjacket. "Listen, then, young man, I mean that the divine spirit of poesy dwells here--that nothing, therefore, is dull or wearisome about this mansion--that all is lively and inspiring. Trust me, my dear young friend, it was copying that miserable deed which put you to sleep, and I can easily understand how that happened. The said indenture was written by the within." And Mr. Roundjacket pointed toward the sanctum of Mr. Rushton. Verty only smiled. Mr. Roundjacket descended from his stool, and cast his eyes upon the paper. "What!" he cried, "you made that picture! How, sir Upon my word, young man, you are in a bad way. The youngster who stops to make designs upon a copy of a deed in a law office, is on the high-road to the gallows. It is an enormity, sir--horrible! dreadful!" "What the devil are you shouting about there!" cried the voice of Mr. Rushton, angrily. And opening the door between the two rooms, the shaggy-headed gentleman appeared upon the threshold. Roundjacket turned over the sheet of paper upon which Verty's design had been made; and then turned to reply to the words addressed to him. "I am using my privilege to correct this youngster," he replied, with a flourish of his ruler, apparently designed to impress the shaggy head with the idea that he, Mr. Roundjacket, would not permit any infringement of his rights and privileges. "You are, are you?" said Mr. Rushton. "Yes, sir," replied the clerk. "And what do you find to correct in Mr. Verty?" "Many things." "Specify." "With pleasure." And Mr. Roundjacket, inserting one thumb into the pocket of his long waistcoat, pointed with the ruler to Verty's costume. "Do you call that a proper dress for a lawyer's clerk?" he said. "Is the profession to be disgraced by the entrance of a bear, a savage, a wild boy of the woods, who resembles a catamountain? Answer that, sir. Look at those leggins!" And Mr. Roundjacket indicated the garments which reached to Verty's knees, with the end of his ruler. "Well," said Mr. Rush ton, smiling, "I should think you might have them changed without troubling me, Verty." The boy raised his head with a smile. "How would you like a new suit of clothes?" "I don't want any, sir." "But these won't do." "Why not, sir?" "They're too primitive, you cub. Clothes, sir, are the essence of human society, and a man is known by his shell. If you wish to reap those numerous advantages for your mother, you must be re-habited." "Anan?" said Verty. "I mean you must dress like a Christian--get new clothes." Verty smiled. "You are willing, I suppose?" "Yes, sir."