chair. Mr. Apsley lifted his little sister into it, and sat down beside
her himself. She threw her arms round his neck, and laid her flaxen
curls on his shoulder. Her blue eyes looked shyly at Merton out of her
fleece of gold. The four shoes of the clients dangled at some distance
above the carpet.

'You are the author of this article, I think, Mr. Graham?' said Mr.
Apsley, showing his hand, which was warm, and holding out a little
crumpled ball of paper, not precisely fresh.

Merton solemnly unrolled it; it contained the advertisement of his firm.

'Yes,' he said, 'I wrote that.'

'You got our letters, for you answered them,' said Mr. Apsley, with equal
solemnity. 'Why do you want Bats and me?'

'The lady's name is Bats?' said Merton, wondering why he was supposed to
'want' either of the pair.

'My name is Batsy. I like you: you are pretty,' said Miss Apsley.

Merton positively blushed: he was unaccustomed to compliments so frank
from a member of the sex at an early stage of a business interview. He
therefore kissed his fair client, who put up a pair of innocent damp
lips, and then allowed her attention to be engrossed by a coin on his
watch-chain.

'I don't quite remember your case, sir, or what you mean by saying I
wanted you, though I am delighted to see you,' he said to Mr. Apsley. 'We