ng was
impossible, he was conducted by his solicitor into the outer office of
the great Serjeant Snubbin himself.

It was an uncarpeted room of tolerable dimensions, with a large
writing-table drawn up near the fire, the baize top of which had long
since lost all claim to its original hue of green, and had gradually
grown gray with dust and age, except where all traces of its natural
colour were obliterated by ink-stains. Upon the table were numerous
little bundles of papers tied with red tape; and behind it, sat an
elderly clerk, whose sleek appearance and heavy gold watch-chain
presented imposing indications of the extensive and lucrative practice
of Mr. Serjeant Snubbin.

'Is the Serjeant in his room, Mr. Mallard?' inquired Perker, offering
his box with all imaginable courtesy.

'Yes, he is,' was the reply, 'but he's very busy. Look here; not an
opinion given yet, on any one of these cases; and an expedition fee
paid with all of 'em.' The clerk smiled as he said this, and inhaled the
pinch of snuff with a zest which seemed to be compounded of a fondness
for snuff and a relish for fees.

'Something like practice that,' said Perker.

'Yes,' said the barrister's clerk, producing his own box, and offering
it with the greatest cordiality; 'and the best of it is, that as nobody
alive except myself can read the serjeant's writing, they are obliged to
wait for the opinions, when he has given them, till I have copied 'em,
ha-ha-ha!'

'Which makes good for we know who, besides the serjeant, and draws a
little more out of the clients, eh?' said Perker; 'ha, ha, ha!' At this
the serjeant's clerk laughed again--not a noisy boisterous laugh, but
a silent, internal chuckle, which Mr. Pickwick disliked to hear. When
a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous thing for himself; but when he
laughs inwardly, it bodes no good to other people.

'You haven't made me out that little list of the fees that I'm in your
debt, have you?' said Perker.

'No, I have not,' replied the clerk.

'I wish you would,' said Perker. 'Let me have them, and I'll send you
a cheque. But I suppose you're too busy pocketing the ready money, to
think of the debtors, eh? ha, ha, ha!' This sally seemed to tickle
the clerk amazingly, and he once more enjoyed a little quiet laugh to
himself.

'But, Mr. Mallard, my dear friend,' said Perker, suddenly recovering
his gravity, and drawing the great man's great man into a Corner, by the
lappel of his coat; 'yo