A STRANGE CLIENT FOR MESSRS. TONGS AND BALL.

The day on which “Cobbler” Horn had proposed to the lawyers to pay them his promised visit, was the following Monday, at three o’clock in the afternoon, and by return of post there came a letter from the lawyers assenting to the arrangement. During the week which intervened, “Cobbler” Horn did not permit either himself or his sister to mention to a third person the change his circumstances had undergone. Nor did he encourage conversation between his sister and himself on the subject of his suddenly acquired wealth. And neither his manner of life nor the ordering of his house gave any indication of the altered position in which he was placed. He did not permit the astounding news he had received to interfere with the simple regularity of his life. Miss Jemima might have been inclined to introduce into her domestic arrangements some outward and visible sign of the altered fortunes of the house; but her brother’s will prevailed, and all things continued as before. The “golden shoemaker” even continued to work at his trade in the usual way. And all the time he was thinking—thinking and praying; and many generous purposes, which afterwards bore abundant fruit, began to germinate in his mind.

At length the momentous day arrived, and “Cobbler” Horn travelled by an early train to London, and, having dined frugally at a decent eating-house, presented himself in due time at the offices of Messrs. Tongs and Ball. The men of law were both seated in the room into which their new client was shown. One of them was a very little, round, rosy, middle-aged man, with an expression of countenance so cherubic that no one would have suspected him of being a lawyer; and the other was a tall, large-boned, parchment-faced personage, of whom almost any degree of heartlessness might have been believed. The two lawyers rose and bowed as “Cobbler” Horn was shown in.

“Mr. Horn?”

“Thomas Horn, at your service, gentlemen.”

“This is Mr. Tongs,” said the tall lawyer with a waive of his hand towards his rotund partner; “and I am Mr. Ball,” he added, drawing himself into an attitude which caused him to look much more like a bat than a ball, and speaking in a surprisingly agreeable tone. Upon this there was bowing all around, and then a pause.

“Pray take a seat, Mr. Horn,” besought Mr. Ball.

“Cobbler” Horn modestly obeyed.

“And now, my dear sir,” said Mr. Ball, when he himself and his partner had also resumed their seats, “let us congratulate you on your good fortune.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said “Cobbler” Horn gravely. “But the responsibility is very great. I am only reconciled to it by the thought that I shall now be able to do many things that I have long desired to do.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Ball, “it is one of the gratifications of wealth that a man is able to follow his bent—whether it be travelling, collecting pictures, keeping horses, or what not.”

“Of course,” echoed Mr. Tongs.

“No, no, gentlemen,” dissented “Cobbler” Horn, “I was thinking of the good I shall now be able to do. But let us get to business; for I should be sorry to waste your time.”

Both lawyers protested. Waste their time! They could not be better employed!

“You are very kind, gentlemen.”

“Not at all,” was the candid reply.

“You have come into a very large fortune, Mr. Horn,” continued Mr. Ball, as he began to untie a bundle of documents. “You are worth very many thousands; in fact you are almost a millionaire. I think I am right, Mr. Tongs?”

“Yes,” assented Mr. Tongs, “oh yes, certainly.”

“All the documents are here,” resumed Mr. Ball, as he surveyed a sea of blue and white paper which covered the table; “and, with your permission, Mr. Horn, we will give you an account of their contents.”

The lawyer then proceeded to give his client a statement of the particulars of the fortune of which he had so unexpectedly become possessed.

“We hope, Mr. Horn,” he said, in conclusion, “that you may do us the honour to continue the confidence reposed in us by your late uncle.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” said “Cobbler” Horn.

“I ventured to hope that my partner and I might be so fortunate as to retain the management of your affairs. I believe you will find that since—”

“Oh yes, of course,” “Cobbler” Horn hastened to interpose. He had not dreamt of making any change. The lawyers bowed their thanks.

“May we now ask,” said Mr. Ball, “whether you have any special commands?”

“I think there are one or two requests I should like to make. I have a sister, and I believe my uncle left another nephew.”

“A sad scrapegrace, my dear sir,” interposed Mr. Ball, whose keen legal instinct gave him some scent of what was coming next.

“Cobbler” Horn held up his hand.

“Can you tell me, gentlemen, whether there are any other relatives of my uncle’s who are still alive?”

“We have every reason to believe that there are not.”

“Very well, then, I wish my uncle’s property to be divided into three equal portions. One third I desire to have made over to my sister, and another to be reserved for my cousin. The remaining portion I will retain myself.”

“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Ball, “the whole of the property is legally yours!”

“True,” was the quiet reply; “but the law cannot make that right which is essentially wrong, and my sister and cousin are as much entitled to my uncle’s money as I am myself.”

Mr. Ball was dumfounded.

“My dear sir,” he gasped, “this is very strange!”

But “Cobbler” Horn was firm.

“You will find this scapegrace cousin of mine?” he asked.

The lawyers said they would do their best; and, when some further arrangements had been made, with regard to the property, “Cobbler” Horn took his departure, leaving his two legal advisers to assure one another, as they stood together on the hearthrug, that he was the strangest client they had known.