"My father is advanced in years, and does very little in the business nowadays; not but what his head is as clear as ever it was, and there are some of our old customers like to see him when they give an order." This sounded hopeful.

I told Mr.Sparsfield the younger that I was not a customer, and then proceeded to state the nature of my business.

I found him as courteous as Mr.Grewter had been disobliging.
"Me and father are old-fashioned people," he said; "and we're not above living over our place of business, which most of the Barbican tradespeople are nowadays.

The old gentleman is taking tea in the parlour upstairs at this present moment, and if you don't mind stepping up to him, I'm sure he'll be proud to give you any information he can.
He likes talking of old times." This was the sort of oldest inhabitant I wanted to meet with--a very different kind of individual from Mr.Grewter, who doled out every answer to my questions as grudgingly as if it had been a five-pound note.
I was conducted to a snug little sitting-room on the first-floor, where there was a cheerful fire and a comfortable odour of tea and toast.

I was invited to take a cup of tea; and as I perceived that my acceptance of the invitation would be accounted a kind of favour, I said yes.