The board-room had a Turkey carpet in it, a sideboard, a portrait of
Tigg Montague, Esquire, as chairman; a very imposing chair of office,
garnished with an ivory hammer and a little hand-bell; and a long table,
set out at intervals with sheets of blotting-paper, foolscap, clean
pens, and inkstands. The chairman having taken his seat with great
solemnity, the secretary supported him on his right hand, and the porter
stood bolt upright behind them, forming a warm background of waistcoat.
This was the board: everything else being a light-hearted little
fiction.
'Bullamy!' said Mr Tigg.
'Sir!' replied the porter.
'Let the Medical Officer know, with my compliments, that I wish to see
him.'
Bullamy cleared his throat, and bustled out into the office, crying 'The
Chairman of the Board wishes to see the Medical Officer. By your leave
there! By your leave!' He soon returned with the gentleman in question;
and at both openings of the board-room door--at his coming in and at
his going out--simple clients were seen to stretch their necks and
stand upon their toes, thirsting to catch the slightest glimpse of that
mysterious chamber.
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