Mr. Grabguy will
consider that very important point for a few seconds.
"Better drop the Marston, as things are. A good many high feeling
connections of that family remain; and to continue the name might be
to give pain." This, Graspum says, he only puts out as a suggestion.
"Enter him as you say, gentlemen," interposes the clerk, who will
mend his pen while waiting their pleasure.
Mr. Grabguy runs his right hand several times across his forehead,
and after a breathless pause, thinks it as well not to connect his
distinguished name with that of the nigger,--not just at this moment!
Being his property, and associating with his business and people,
that will naturally follow. "Just enter him, and make out the bill
of sale describing him as the boy Nicholas," he adds.
"Boy Nicholas!" reiterates the book-keeper, and straight-way enters
his name, amount fetched, to whom sold, and general description, on
his files. In a few minutes more-Graspum, in his chair of state, is
regretting having sold so quick,--Mr. Grabguy is handed his bill of
sale, duly made out. At the same time, that sedate official places
the note for the amount into Graspum's hands. Graspum examines it
minutely, while Mr. Grabguy surveys the bill of sale. "Mr. Benson,
my clerk here, does these things up according to legal tenour; he,
let me inform you, was brought up at the law business, and was
rather celebrated once; but the profession won't pay a man of his
ability," remarks Graspum, with an "all right!" as he lays the note
of hand down for Mr.
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