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The Solicitor
by [?]

“Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till Wednesday.–BLUNT.”

The car stopped and then sped on again.

“Amy has never been any trouble to me,” said Mr Masters, “but I am getting old now, and I would give a thousand pounds to see her happily married.”

“To whom would you give it,” asked John, whipping out his pocket-book.

“Tut, tut, a mere figure of speech. But I would settle a hundred thousand pounds on her on the wedding-day.”

“Indeed?” said John thoughtfully. “Can we stop at another post-office?” he added, bringing out his fountain-pen again. He took out a second telegraph form and wrote:

“Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till Friday.–BLUNT.”

The car dashed on again, and an hour later arrived it a commodious mansion standing in its own well-timbered grounds of upwards of several acres. At the front-door a graceful figure was standing.

“My solicitor, dear, Mr Blunt,” said Mr Masters.

“It is very good of you to come all this way on my father’s business,” she said shyly.

“Not at all,” said John. “A week or–or a fortnight–or–” he looked at her again–“or–three weeks, and the thing is done.”

“Is making a will so very difficult?”

“It’s a very tricky and complicated affair indeed. However, I think we shall pull it off. Er–might I send an important business telegram?”

“Macmacmacmacmac, London,” wrote John. “Very knotty case. Date of return uncertain. Please send more cash for incidental expenses.–BLUNT.”

. . . . . . .

Yes, you have guessed what happened. It is an everyday experience in a solicitor’s life. John Blunt and Amy Masters were married at St George’s, Hanover Square, last May. The wedding was a quiet one, owing to mourning in the bride’s family–the result of a too sudden perusal of Macnaughton, Macnaughton, Macnaughton, Macnaughton & Macnaughton’s bill of costs. As Mr Masters said with his expiring breath–he didn’t mind paying for our Mr Blunt’s skill; nor yet for our Mr Blunt’s valuable time–even if most of it was spent in courting Amy; nor, again, for our Mr Blunt’s tips to the servants; but he did object to being charged the first-class railway fare both ways when our Mr Blunt had come down and gone up again in the car. And perhaps I ought to add that that is the drawback to this fine profession. One is so often misunderstood.