Such was Miss Brass in person. In mind, she was of a strong and vigorous turn, having from her earliest youth devoted herself with uncommon ardour to the study of law; not wasting her speculations upon its eagle flights, which are rare, but tracing it attentively through all the slippery and eel-like crawlings in which it commonly pursues its way. Nor had she, like many persons of great intellect, confined herself to theory, or stopped short where practical usefulness begins; inasmuch as she could ingross, fair-copy, fill up printed forms with perfect accuracy, and in short transact any ordinary duty of the office down to pouncing a skin of parchment or mending a pen. It is difficult to understand how, possessed of these combined attractions, she should remain Miss Brass; but whether she had steeled her heart against mankind, or whether those who might have wooed and won her, were deterred by fears that, being learned in the law, she might have too near her fingers’ ends those particular statutes which regulate what are familiarly termed actions for breach, certain it is that she was still in a state of celibacy, and still in daily occupation of her old stool opposite to that of her brother Sampson. And equally certain it is, by the way, that between these two stools a great many people had come to the ground.

One morning Mr Sampson Brass sat upon his stool copying some legal process, and viciously digging his pen deep into the paper, as if he were writing upon the very heart of the party against whom it was directed; and Miss Sally Brass sat upon her stool making a new pen preparatory to drawing out a little bill, which was her favourite occupation; and so they sat in silence for a long time, until Miss Brass broke silence.

‘Have you nearly done, Sammy?’ said Miss Brass; for in her mild and feminine lips, Sampson became Sammy, and all things were softened down.

‘No,’ returned her brother. ‘It would have been all done though, if you had helped at the right time.’

‘Oh yes, indeed,’ cried Miss Sally; ‘you want my help, don’t you — you, too, that are going to keep a clerk!’

‘Am I going to keep a clerk for my own pleasure, or because of my own wish, you provoking rascal!’ said Mr Brass, putting his pen in his mouth, and grinning spitefully at his sister. ‘What do you taunt me about going to keep a clerk for?’

It may be observed in this place, lest the fact of Mr Brass calling a lady a rascal, should occasion any wonderment or surprise, that he was so habituated to having her near him in a man’s capacity, that he had gradually accustomed himself to talk to her as though she were really a man. And this feeling was so perfectly reciprocal, that not only did Mr Brass often call Miss Brass a rascal, or even put an adjective before the rascal, but Miss Brass looked upon it as quite a matter of course, and was as little moved as any other lady would be by being called an angel.

‘What do you taunt me, after three hours’ talk last night, with going to keep a clerk for?’ repeated Mr Brass, grinning again with the pen in his mouth, like some nobleman’s or gentleman’s crest. ‘Is it my fault?’

‘All I know is,’ said Miss Sally, smiling drily, for she delighted in nothing so much as irritating her brother, ‘that if every one of your clients is to force us to keep a clerk, whether we want to or not, you had better leave off business, strike yourself off the roll, and get taken in execution as soon as you can.’

‘Have we got any other client like him?’ said Brass. ‘Have we got another client like him, now — will you answer me that?’

‘Do you mean in the face!’ said his sister.

‘Do I mean in the face!’ sneered Sampson Brass, reaching over to take up the bill-book, and fluttering its leaves rapidly. ‘Look here — Daniel Quilp, Esquire — Daniel Quilp, Esquire — Daniel Quilp, Esquire