orld in the north of England was well
aware. No one entertained any doubt about his employers, Hubbles and
Grease of Houndsditch. Hubbles and Grease were all right, as they had
been any time for the last twenty years. But I cannot say that there
was quite so strong a confidence felt in the Patent Steel Furniture
Company generally, or in the individual operations of Mr. Kantwise
in particular. The world in Yorkshire and Lancashire was doubtful
about metallic tables, and it was thought that Mr. Kantwise was too
eloquent in their praise.

Mr. Moulder when he had entered the room, stood still, to enable
the waiter to peel off from him his greatcoat and the large shawl
with which his neck was enveloped, and Mr. Kantwise performed the
same operation for himself, carefully folding up the articles of
clothing as he took them off. Then Mr. Moulder fixed his eyes on Mr.
Dockwrath, and stared at him very hard. "Who's the party, James?" he
said to the waiter, speaking in a whisper that was plainly heard by
the attorney.

"Gen'elman by the 8.22 down," said James.

"Commercial?" asked Mr. Moulder, with angry frown.

"He says so himself, anyways," said the waiter.

"Gammon!" replied Mr. Moulder, who knew all the bearings of a
commercial man thoroughly, and could have put one together if he were
only supplied with a little bit--say the mouth, as Professor Owen
always does with the Dodoes. Mr. Moulder now began to be angry, for
he was a stickler for the rights and privileges of his class, and had
an idea that the world was not so conservative in that respect as it
should be. Mr. Dockwrath, however, was not to be frightened, so he
drew his chair a thought nearer to the fire, took a sup of brandy and
water, and prepared himself for war if war should be necessary.

"Cold evening, sir, for the time of year," said Mr. Moulder, walking
up to the fireplace, and rolling the lumps of his forehead about in
his attempt at a frown. In spite of his terrible burden of flesh, Mr.
Moulder could look angry on occasions, but he could only do so when
he was angry. He was not gifted with a command of his facial muscles.

"Yes," said Mr. Dockwrath, not taking his eyes from off the Leeds
and Halifax Chronicle. "It is coldish. Waiter, bring me a cigar."

This was very provoking, as must be confessed. Mr. Moulder had not
been prepared to take any step towards turning the gentleman out,
though doubtless he might have done so had he chosen to exercise