"Oh, they never go anywhere without a clerk. His business is to carry a green bag with nothing in it, and look like an umpire. All the writing of letters, for which he relentlessly charged three shillings and sixpence each, was totally unnecessary, as they related to matters of which I fully informed him at the beginning. But he was the most industrious letter writer I ever saw. And I would answer his letters like an idiot, and he charged for replying to mine, and then he would write again and charge for that, and so on. And when he couldn't decently write another letter, he would telegraph me and charge for that, and--well, if I had taken two leases I shouldn't have been through till this time." "Did you pay it?" "Pay it? Of course I did. To have resisted would have been ruin. He would have sued me, and I should have had to have employed another attorney, and the case would have gone into the courts, after about a thousand instructions, conferences, letters, and telegrams, and clerks, and all that, from him--the same as this--and it would have dragged along, with more clerks, and letters, and telegrams, till the crack o' doom. Instead of bills of four pages I should have had bills of forty, and then there would have been money to be paid on account, and bail, and the Lord only knows what. A law suit in London means ruin to everybody but the lawyers and officers of the court. And in the end I should have been compelled to pay it, for the courts take care of the attorneys. And, after all, he only made the regular charges that every London lawyer does. Indeed, as he omitted twice to charge three and six pence for bidding me good morning, I don't know but that he is rather liberal than otherwise. I think," said Mr. Foote, reflectively, "that three times he shook my hand, and I find no charge for that. On the whole, he is a tolerable fair lawyer to do business with." "Tell me all about him."