The paper which Lawyer Eliphalet Means, standing at the battered and hacked old desk whereon Cyrus Robinson made out his accounts, drew up with a sputtering quill pen--at which he swore under his breath--was as fully elaborated and as formal in every detail as his legal knowledge could make it.

Apostrophizing it openly, before he began, as damned nonsense, he was yet not without a certain delight in the task.

It was quite easy to see that Simon Basset, whatever motive he might have had in his proposition, was beyond measure terrified at its acceptance.

With his bristling chin dropping nervously, and his forehead contracted with anxious wrinkles, he questioned Jerome.
"Look at here," he said, with a tight clutch on Jerome's sleeve, "I want to know, young man.

There ain't no property anywheres in your family, is there?
There ain't no second nor third nor fourth cousins out West anywheres that's got property ?" "No, there are not," said Jerome, impatiently shaking off his hand.
"Your father didn't have no uncle that had money ?" "I tell you there isn't a dollar in the family that I know of," cried Jerome.