On the very day after Mountjoy’s coming Mr. Barry came.  His visit had been arranged, and Mr. Prosper was, with great care, prepared to encounter him.  He was wrapped in his best dressing-gown, and Matthew had shaved him with the greatest care.  The girls over at the parsonage declared that their uncle had sent into Buntingford for a special pot of pomatum.  The story was told to Joe Thoroughbung in order that it might be passed on to his aunt, and no doubt it did travel as it was intended.  But Miss Thoroughbung cared nothing for the pomatum with which the lawyer from London was to be received.  It would be very hard to laugh her out of her lover while the title-deeds to Buston held good.  But Mr. Prosper had felt that it would be necessary to look his best, so that his marriage might be justified in the eyes of the lawyer.

Mr. Barry was shown into the book-room at Buston, in which Mr. Prosper was seated ready to receive him.  The two gentlemen had never before met each other, and Mr. Prosper did no doubt assume something of the manner of an aristocratic owner of land.  He would not have done so had Mr. Grey come in his partner’s place.  But there was a humility about Mr. Barry on an occasion such as the present, which justified a little pride on the part of the client.  “I am sorry to give you the trouble to come down, Mr. Barry,” he said.  “I hope the servant has shown you your room.”

“I shall be back in London to-day, Mr. Prosper, thank you.  I must see these lawyers here, and when I have received your final instructions I will return to Buntingford.”  Then Mr. Prosper pressed him much to stay.  He had quite expected, he said, that Mr. Barry would have done him the pleasure of remaining at any rate one night at Buston.  But Mr. Barry settled the question by saying that he had not brought a dress-coat.  Mr. Prosper did not care to sit down to dinner with guests who did not bring their dress-coats.  “And now,” continued Mr. Barry, “what final instructions are we to give to Soames & Simpson?”

“I don’t think much of Messrs. Soames & Simpson.”

“I believe they have the name of being honest practitioners.”

“I dare say; I do not in the least doubt it.  But they are people to whom I am not at all desirous of intrusting my own private affairs.  Messrs. Soames & Simpson have not, I think, a large county business.  I had no idea that Miss Thoroughbung would have put this affair into their hands.”

“Just so, Mr. Prosper.  But I suppose it was necessary for her to employ somebody.  There has been a good deal of correspondence.”

“Indeed there has, Mr. Barry.”

“It has not been our fault, Mr. Prosper.  Now what we have got to decide is this:  What are the final terms which you mean to propose?  I think, sir, the time has come when some final terms should be suggested.”

“Just so.  Final terms—­must be what you call—­the very last.  That is, when they have once been offered, you must—­must—­”