Sneerly pulled the spectacles from his face, placed them on the table, pushed back his chair a foot or two and stared at Stranleigh. The young man was amazed to see something of softness smooth out a few lines in that granite face, while a touch of pathos made the corners of his thin lips quiver.
"Do you mean it?" gasped the lawyer.
"Of course I mean it."
The lawyer rose, plunged his hand in his trousers pocket, nervously counted out fifteen shillings in silver, and slid the coins in front of the astonished Stranleigh.
"There!" he cried. "There's your other three hours. I must go and tell the wife the good news. Poor woman! Never in all her life has she had quite enough money to keep her poverty-stricken home. All my fault. I'm a beast, I admit, but—but I've never been a beast to her."
The man's harsh voice broke, then he said with a struggle:
"Come back in an hour. I'm not able to talk to you just now. Besides, I want to see my wife."
To the amazement of all Muddlebury, grim old Sneerly proved not only a just agent, but the kindest that the tenants had ever known. He had been through difficulties himself, and prosperity developed in him a sympathy for the difficulties of others.
Stranleigh 's numerous lawsuits never went
