Mr. Larkin got into a little brown room, looking into the inn garden, and
called for some luncheon, and pen and ink, and had out a sheaf of law
papers he had brought with him, tied up in professional red tape; and
asked the waiter, with a grand smile and recognition, how he did; and
asked him next for his good friend, Mr. Johnson; and trusted that
business was improving; and would be very happy to see him for two or
three minutes, if he could spare time.
So, in due time, in came the corpulent proprietor, and Lawyer Larkin
shook hands with him, and begged him to sit down, like a man who confers
a distinction; and assured him that Lord Edward Buxleigh, whom he had
recommended to stay at the house for the shooting, had been very well
pleased with the accommodation--very highly so indeed--and his lordship
had so expressed himself when they had last met at Sir Hugh Huxterley's,
of Hatch Court.
The good lawyer liked illuminating his little narratives, compliments,
and reminiscences with plenty of armorial bearings and heraldic figures,
and played out his court-cards in easy and somewhat overpowering
profusion.
Then he enquired after the two heifers that Mr. Johnson was so good as to
feed for him on his little farm; and then he mentioned that his friend,
Captain Lake, who was staying with him at his house at Gylingden, was
also very well satisfied with his accommodation, when he, too, at Lawyer
Larkin's recommendation, had put up for a night at Johnson's Hotel; and
it was not every house which could satisfy London swells of Captain
Lake's fashion and habits, he could tell him.
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