ion to the mere monetary
deficit it represented. The attorney loved money, but he loved power
still better. He had always been proud of having early won the confidence
of a conventicle-goer, and of being able to 'turn the prop of Salem round
his thumb'. Like most other men, too, he had a certain kindness towards
those who had employed him when he was only starting in life; and just as
we do not like to part with an old weather-glass from our study, or a
two-feet ruler that we have carried in our pocket ever since we began
business, so Mr. Dempster did not like having to erase his old client's
name from the accustomed drawer in the bureau. Our habitual life is like
a wall hung with pictures, which has been shone on by the suns of many
years: take one of the pictures away, and it leaves a definite blank
space, to which our eyes can never turn without a sensation of
discomfort. Nay, the involuntary loss of any familiar object almost
always brings a chill as from an evil omen; it seems to be the first
finger-shadow of advancing death.

From all these causes combined, Mr. Dempster could never think of his
lost client without strong irritation, and the very sight of Mr. Jerome
passing in the street was wormwood to him.

One day, when the old gentleman was coming up Orchard Street on his roan
mare, shaking the bridle, and tickling her flank with the whip as usual,
though there was a perfect mutual understanding that she was not to
quicken her pace, Janet happened to be on her own door-step, and he could
not resist the temptation of stopping to speak to that 'nice little
woman', as he always called her, though she was taller than all the rest
of his feminine acquaintances. Janet, in spite of her disposition to take
her husband's part in all public matters, could bear no malice against
her old friend; so they shook hands.

'Well, Mrs. Dempster, I'm sorry to my heart not to see you sometimes,
that I am,' said Mr. Jerome, in a plaintive tone. 'But if you've got any
poor people as wants help, and you know's deservin', send 'em to me, send
'em to me, just the same.'

'Thank you, Mr. Jerome, that I will. Good-bye.'

Janet made the interview as short as she could, but it was not short
enough to escape the observation of her husband, who, as she feared, was
on his mid-day return from his office at the other end of the street, and
this offence of hers, in speaking to Mr. Jerome, was the frequently
recurring theme of Mr. Dempster's