Doctor Bryerly, standing47 near the window

was talking in a low tone to Mr. Grimston, our attorney.

 

I heard good Dr. Clay whisper to Mr. Danvers —

 

“Is not that Doctor Bryerly — the person with the black — the black — it’s a wig48, I think — in the window, talking to Abel Grimston?”

 

“Yes; that’s he.”

 

“Odd-looking person — one of the Swedenborg people, is not he?” continued the Rector.

 

“So I am told.”

 

“Yes,” said the Rector, quietly; and he crossed one gaitered leg over the other, and, with fingers interlaced, twiddled his thumbs, as he eyed the monstrous49 sectary under his orthodox old brows with a stern inquisitiveness50. I thought he was meditating51 theological battle.
 

 

But Dr. Bryerly and Mr. Grimston, still talking together

began to walk slowly from the window, and the former said in his peculiar grim tones —

 

“I beg pardon, Miss Ruthyn; perhaps you would be so good as to show to which of the cabinets in this room your late lamented52 father pointed53 out as that to which this key belongs.”

 

I indicated the oak cabinet.

 

“Very good, ma’am — very good,” said Doctor Bryerly, as he fumbled54 the key into the lock.

 

Cousin Monica could not forbear murmuring —

 

“Dear! what a brute55!”

 

The junior partner, with his dumpy hands in his pockets,

poked56 his fat face over Mr. Grimston’s shoulder, and peered into the cabinet as the door opened.