"
Mr. Buxton, in the dining-room, was really getting to take an interest in
Edward's puzzling cases. They were like tricks at cards. A quick motion,
and out of the unpromising heap, all confused together, presto! the right
card turned up. Edward stated his case, so that there did not seem loophole
for the desired verdict; but through some conjuration, it always came
uppermost at last. He had a graphic way of relating things; and, as he did
not spare epithets in his designation of the opposing party, Mr. Buxton
took it upon trust that the defendant or the prosecutor (as it might
happen) was a "pettifogging knave," or a "miserly curmudgeon," and rejoiced
accordingly in the triumph over him gained by the ready wit of "our
governor," Mr. Bish. At last he became so deeply impressed with Edward's
knowledge of law, as to consult him about some cottage property he had in
Woodchester.
"I rather think there are twenty-one cottages, and they don't bring me in
four pounds a-year; and out of that I have to pay for collecting. Would
there be any chance of selling them? They are in Doughty-street; a bad
neighborhood, I fear."
"Very bad," was Edward's prompt reply. "But if you are really anxious to
effect a sale, I have no doubt I could find a purchaser in a short time."
"I should be very much obliged to you," said Mr. Buxton. "You would be
doing me a kindness. If you meet with a purchaser, and can manage the
affair, I would rather that you drew out the deeds for the transfer of the
property.
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