CHAPTER V
Arthur was taken aback by his uncle's harshness, and he made haste tobe at the bank early enough on the Monday to anticipate the banker'sdeparture for Garth. He was certain that to approach the Squire atthis moment in the matter of the railroad was to invite disaster, andhe gave Ovington such an account of the quarrel as he thought woulddeter him from going over at present.
But the banker had a belief in himself which success and experiencein the management of men had increased. He was convinced thatself-interest was the spring which moved nine men out of ten, andthough he admitted that the family quarrel was untimely, he did notagree that as between the Squire and a good bargain it would haveweight.
"But I assure you, sir, he's like a bear with a sore head," Arthururged.
"A bear will come to the honey if its head be sore," the bankeranswered, smiling.
"And perhaps upset the hive?"
Ovington laughed. "Not in this case, I think. And we must risksomething. Time presses and he blocks the way. However, I'll let itstand over for a week and then I'll go alone. We must have youruncle."
Accordingly a week later, discarding the tilbury and smart man-servantthat he had lately set up, he rode over to Garth, considering as hejourneyed the man whom he was going to meet and of whom, in spite ofhis self-assurance, he stood in some awe.
Round Aldersbury were larger landowners and richer men than theSquire. But his family and his name were old, and by virtue of longpossession he stood high among the gentry of the county. He hadsucceeded at twenty-two to a property neglected and loaded withdebt, and his father's friends--this was far back in the old King'sreign--had advised him to sell; let him keep the house and thehome-farm and pay his debts with the rest. But pride of race wasstrong in him, he had seen that to sell was to lose the position whichhis forbears had held, and he had refused. Instead he had set himselfto free the estate, and he had pared, he had pinched, he had almoststarved himself and others. He had become a byword for parsimony.In the end, having benefited much by enclosures in the 'nineties, hehad succeeded. But no sooner had he deposited in the bank the moneyto pay off the last charge than the loss of his only son had darkenedhis success. He had married again--he was by this time past middleage--but only a daughter had come of the marriage, and by that time toput shilling to shilling and acre to acre had become a habit of whichhe could not break himself, though he knew that only a woman wouldfollow him at Garth.
Withal he was a great aristocrat, a Tory of the Tories, stern andunbending. Fear of France and of French doctrines and pride in hiscaste were in his blood. The _Quarterly Review_ ranked with him afterhis Bible, and very little after it. Reform under the most moderateaspect was to him a shorter name for Revolution. He believedimplicitly in his class, and did not believe in any other class.Manufacturers and traders he hated and distrusted, and of latejealousy had been added to hatred and distrust. The inclusion of suchmen in the magistracy, the elevation of Peel to the Ministry had madehim fancy that there was something in the Queen's case after all; whenCanning and Huskisson had also risen to power he had said that LordLiverpool was aging and the Duke was no longer the man he had been.
He was narrow, choleric, proud, miserly; he had been known to carry anold log a hundred yards to add it to his wood-pile, and to travel aleague to look for a lost sixpence. He dressed shabbily, which was notso much remarked now that dandies aped coachmen, as it had been in hisyounger days; and he rode about his fields on an old white mare whichhe was believed to hold in affection next after his estate and muchbefore his daughter. He ruled his parish with a high hand. He had nomercy for poachers. But he was honest and he was just. The farmersmust pay the wage he laid down--it was a shilling above the allowedrate. But the men must work it out, and woe betide the idle; they hadbest seek work abroad, and heaven help them if a foreign parish sentthem home. In one thing he was before his time; he was resolved thatno able-bodied man should share in the rates. The farmers growled, thelaborers grumbled, there were hard cases. But he was obdurate--workyour worth, or starve! And presently it began to be noticed that theparish was better off than its neighbors. He was a tyrant, but a justtyrant.
Such was the man whom Ovington was going to meet, and from whoseavarice he hoped much. He had made his market of it once, for it wasby playing on it that he had lured the Squire from Dean's, and so hadgained one of his dearest triumphs over the old Aldersbury Bank.
His hopes would not have been lessened had he heard a dialogue whichwas at that moment proceeding in the stable-yard at Garth to anaccompaniment of clattering pails and swishing besoms. "He've nobowels!" Thomas the groom declared with bitterness. "He be that hardand grasping he've no bowels for nobody!"
Old Fewtrell, the Squire's ancient bailiff, sniggered. "He'd none foryou, Thomas," he said, "when you come back gallus drunk from BaschurchFair. None of your Manchester tricks with me, says Squire, and, lord,how he did leather 'ee."
Thomas did not like the reminiscence. "What other be I saying!" hesnarled. "He've no bowels even for his own flesh and blood! Did'eeever watch him in church? Well, where be he a-looking? At his son'smoniment as is at his elbow? Never see him, never see him, not once!"
"Well, I dunno as I 'ave, either," Fewtrell admitted.
"No, his eyes is allus on t'other side, a-counting up the Griffinsbefore him, and filling himself up wi' pride."
"Dunno as I couldn't see it another way," said the bailiffthoughtfully.
"What other way? Never to look at his own son's moniment?"
"Well, mebbe----"
"Mebbe?" Thomas cried with scorn. "Look at his darter! He ain't butone, and he be swilling o' money! Do he make much of her, JamesFewtrell? And titivate her, and pull her ears bytimes same as you withyour grand-darters? And get her a horse as you might call a horse? Youknow he don't. If she's not quick, it's a nod and be damned, same asto you and me!"
Old Fewtrell considered. "Not right out the same," he decided.
"Right out, I say. You've been with him all your life. You've neverknowed no other and you're getting old, and Calamity, he be old too,and may put up with it. But I don't starve for no Squire, and I'm formore wage. I was in Aldersbury Saturday and wages is up and more workthan men! While here I'm a-toiling for what you got twenty year ago.But not me! I bin to Manchester. And so I'm going to tell Squire."
The bailiff grinned. "Mebbe he'll take a stick same as before."
"He'd best not!" Thomas said, with an ugly look. "He'd best take care,or----"
"Whist! Whist! lad. You be playing for trouble. Here be Squire."
The Squire glared at them, but he did not stop. He stalked into thehouse and, passing through it, went out by the front door. He intendedto turn right-handed, and enter the high-terraced garden facing south,in which he was wont to take, even in winter, a few turns of amorning. But something caught his eye, and he paused. "Who's this?" hemuttered, and shading his eyes made out a moment later that thestranger was Ovington. A visit from him was rare enough to be aportent, and the figure of his bank balance passed through theSquire's mind. Had he been rash? Ovington's was a new concern; wasanything wrong? Then another idea, hardly more welcome, occurred tohim: had the banker come on his nephew's account?
If so--however, he would soon know, for the visitor was by this timehalf-way up the winding drive, sunk between high banks, which, leavingthe road a third of a mile from the house, presently forked, the leftbranch swerving through a grove of beech trees to the front entrance,the right making straight for the stables.
The Squire met his visitor at the gate and, raising his voice, shoutedfor Thomas. "I am sorry to trespass on you so early," Ovington said ashe dismounted. "A little matter of business, Mr. Griffin, if I maytrouble you."
The old man did not say that it was no trespass, but he stood asidepunctiliously for the other to precede him through the gate. Then,"You'll stay to eat something after your ride?" he said.
"No, I thank you. I must be in town by noon."
/> "A glass of Madeira?"
"Nothing, Squire, I thank you. My business will not take long."
By this time they stood in the room in which the Squire lived and didhis business. He pointed courteously to a chair. He was shabby, inwell-worn homespun and gaiters, and the room was shabby, walled withbound Quarterlies and old farm books, and littered with spurs and dogleashes--its main window looked into the stable yard. But there wasabout the man a dignity implied rather than expressed, which thespruce banker in his shining Hessians owned and envied. The Squirecould look at men so that they grew uneasy under his eye, and for amoment, owning his domination, the visitor doubted of success. Butthen again the room was so shabby. He took heart of grace.
"I shouldn't trouble you, Mr. Griffin," he said, sitting back with anassumption of ease, while the Squire from his old leather chairobserved him warily, "except on a matter of importance. You will haveheard that there is a scheme on foot to increase the value of thewoollen industry by introducing a steam railroad. This is a newinvention which, I admit, has not yet been proved, but I have examinedit as a business man, and I think that much is to be expected from it.A limited company is being formed to carry out the plan, if it proveto be feasible. Sir Charles Woosenham has agreed to be Chairman, Mr.Acherley and other gentlemen of the county are taking part, and I amcommissioned by them to approach you. I have the plans here----"
"What do you want?" The Squire's tone was uncompromising. He made nomovement towards taking the plans.
"If you will allow me to explain?"
The old man sat back in his chair.
"The railroad will be a continuation of the Birmingham and Aldersburyrailroad, which is in strong hands at Birmingham. Such a scheme wouldbe too large for us. That, again, is a continuation of the London andBirmingham railroad."
"Built?"
"Oh no. Not yet, of course."
"Begun, then?"
"No, but----"
"Projected?"
"Precisely, projected, the plans approved, the Bill in preparation."
"But nothing done?"
"Nothing actually done as yet," the banker admitted, somewhat dashed."But if we wait until these works are finished we shall find ourselvesanticipated.
"Ah!"
"We wish, therefore, to be early in the field. Much has appeared inthe papers about this mode of transport, and you are doubtlessfamiliar with it. I have myself inquired into it, and the opinion offinancial men in London is that these railroads will be verylucrative, paying dividends of from ten to twenty-five per cent."
The Squire raised his eyebrows.
"I have the plans here," the banker continued, once more producingthem. "Our road runs over the land of six small owners, who have allagreed to the terms offered. It then enters on the Woosenham outlyingproperty, and thence, before reaching Mr. Acherley's, proceeds overthe Garth estate, serving your mills, the tenant of one of which joinsour board. If you will look at the plans?" Again Ovington held themout.
But the old man put them aside. "I don't want to see them," he said.
"But, Squire, if you would kindly glance----"
"I don't want to see them. What do you want?"
Ovington paused to consider the most favorable light in which he couldplace the matter. "First, Mr. Griffin, your presence on the Board. Weattach the highest importance to that. Secondly, a way-leave over yourland for which the Company will pay--pay most handsomely, although thevalue added to your mills will far exceed the immediate profit."
"You want to carry your railroad over Garth?"
"Yes."
"Not a yard!" The old man tapped the table before him. "Not a foot!"
"But our terms--if you would allow me to explain them?"
"I don't want to hear them. I am not going to sell my birthright,whatever they are. You don't understand me? Well, you can understandthis." And abruptly the Squire sat up. "I'll have none of your d--dsmoking, stinking steam-wagons on my land in my time! Oh, I've readabout them in more places than the papers, sir, and I'll not sell mybirthright and my people's birthright--of clean air and clean waterand clean soil for any mess of pottage you can offer! That's myanswer, Mr. Ovington."
"But the railroad will not come within a mile of Garth."
"It will not come on to my land! I am not blind, sir. Suppose yousucceed. Suppose you drive the mails and coaches and the stage-wagonsoff the road. Where shall I sell my coach-horses and hackneys andmy tenants their heavy nags? And their corn and their beans? No, byG--d," stopping Ovington, who wished to interrupt him. "You may deludesome of my neighbors, sir, and you may know more about money-making,where it is no question how the money is made, than I do! But I'll seethat you don't delude me! A pack of navigators upsetting the country,killing game and robbing hen-roosts, raising wages and teaching honestfolks tricks? Not here! If Woosenham knew his own business, andAcherley were not up to his neck in debt, they'd not let themselves beled by the nose by----"
"By whom, sir?" Ovington was on his feet by this time, his eyessmoldering, his face paler than usual. They confronted each other. Itwas the meeting, the collision of two powers, of two worlds, the oldand the new.
"By whom, sir?" the Squire replied sternly--he too had risen. "By onewhose interests and breeding are wholly different from theirs and wholooks at things from another standpoint! That's by whom, sir. And oneword more, Mr. Ovington. You have the name of being a clever man and Inever doubted it until to-day; but have a care that you are not overclever, sir. Have a care that you do not lead your friends andyourself into more trouble than you think for! I read the papers and Isee that everybody is to grow rich between Saturday and Monday. Well,I don't know as much about money business as you do, but I am an oldman, and I have never seen a time when everybody grew rich and nobodywas the loser."
Ovington had controlled himself well; and he still controlled himself,but there was a dangerous light in his eyes. "I am sorry," he said,"that you can give me no better answer, Mr. Griffin. We hoped to have,and we set some value on your support. But there are, of course--otherways."
"You may take your railroad any way you like, so long as you don'tbring it over Garth."
"I don't mean that. If the railroad is made at all it must pass overGarth--the property stretches across the valley. But the Bill, whenpresented, will contain the same powers which are given in the laterCanal Acts--a single proprietor cannot be allowed to stand in the wayof the public interests, Mr. Griffin."
"You mean--by G--d, sir," the Squire broke out, "you mean that youwill take my land whether I will or no?"
"I am not using any threat."
"But you do use a threat!" roared the Squire, towering tall and gauntabove his opponent. "You do use a threat! You come here----"
"I came here--" the other answered--he was quietly drawing on hisgloves--"to put an excellent business investment before you, Mr.Griffin. As you do not think it worth while to entertain it, I canonly regret that I have wasted your time and my own."
"Pish!" said the Squire.
"Very good. Then with your permission I will seek my horse."
The old man turned to the window and opened it. "Thomas," he shoutedviolently. "Mr. Ovington's horse."
When he turned again. "Perhaps you may still think better of it,"Ovington said. He had regained command of himself. "I ought to havementioned that your nephew has consented to act as Secretary to theCompany."
"The more fool he!" the Squire snarled. "My nephew! What the devil ishe doing in your Company? Or for the matter of that in your bankeither?"
"I think he sees more clearly than you that times are changed."
"Ay," the old man retorted, full of wrath, and well aware that theother had found a joint in his armor. "And he had best have a carethat these fine times don't lead him into trouble!"
"I hope not, I hope not. Good-day, Mr. Griffin. I can find my way out.Don't let me trouble you."
"I will see you out, if you please. After you, sir." Then, with aneffort which cost him much, but which
he thought was due to hisposition, "You are sure that you will take nothing?"
"Nothing, I thank you."
The Squire saw his visitor to the door; but he did not stay to see himride away. He went back to his room and to a side window at which itwas his custom to spend much time. It looked over the narrow vale,little more than a glen, which the eminence, on which the house stood,cut off from the main valley. It looked on its green slopes, on thefern-fringed brook that babbled and tossed in its bottom, on the blackand white mill that spanned the stream, and on the Thirty Acre covertthat clothed the farther side and climbed to the foot of the greatlimestone wall that towered alike above house and glen and rose itselfto the knees of the boundary hills. And looking on all this, theSquire in fancy saw the railroad scoring and smirching and spoilinghis beloved acres. It was nothing to him, that in fact the railroadwould pass up the middle of the broad vale behind him--he ignoredthat. He saw the hated thing sweep by below him, a long black uglysnake, spewing smoke and steam over the green meadows, fouling thewaters, darkening the air.
"Not in my time, by G--d!" he muttered, his knees quivering a littleunder him--for he was an aging man and the scene had tried him."Not in my time!" And at the thought that he, the owner of all, hilland vale, within his sight, and the descendant of generations ofowners--that he had been threatened by this upstart, this loan-monger,this town-bred creature of a day, he swore with fresh vigor.
He had at any rate the fires of indignation to warm him, and thesatisfaction of knowing that he had spoken his mind and had not hadthe worst of the bout. But the banker's feelings as he joggedhomewards on his hackney were not so happy. In spite of Bourdillon'swarning he had been confident that he would gain his end. He hadfancied that he knew his man and could manage him. He had believedthat the golden lure would not fail. But it had failed, and the oldman's gibes accompanied him, and like barbed arrows clung to hismemory and poisoned his content.
It was not the worst that he must return and own that Arthur had beenwiser than he; that he must inform his colleagues that his embassy hadfailed. Worse than either was the hurt to his pride. Certain thingsthat the Squire had said about money-making, his sneer about thedifference in breeding, his warning that the banker might yet findthat he had been too clever--these had pricked him to the quick, andthe last had even caused him a pang of uneasiness. And then the Squirehad shown so clearly the gulf that in his eyes lay between them!
Ay, it was that which rankled: the knowledge, sharply brought home tohim, that no matter what his success, no matter what his wealth, norhow the common herd bowed down to him, this man and his like wouldever hold themselves above him, would always look down on him. Thefence about them he could not cross. Add thousands to thousands as hemight, and though he conquered Lombard Street, these men would notadmit him of their number. They would ever hold him at arm's length,would deal out to him a cold politeness. He could never be of them.
As a rule Ovington was too big a man to harbor spite, but as he rodeand fumed, a plan which he had already considered put on a new aspect,and by and by his brow relaxed and he smote his thigh. Somethingtickled him and he laughed. He thought that he saw a way to avengehimself and to annoy his enemy, and by the time he reached the bank hewas himself again. Indeed, he had not been human if he had not by thattime owned that whatever Garth thought of him he was something inAldersbury.
Three times men stopped him, one crossing the street to intercept him,one running bare-headed from a shop, a third seizing his rein. And allthree sought favors, or craved advice, all, as they retreated, did so,eyed askance by those who lacked their courage or their impudence.
For the tide of speculation was still rising in the country, and evenin Aldersbury had reached many a back-parlor where the old stocking orthe money-box was scarcely out of date. Thousands sold their Three percents., and the proceeds had to go somewhere, and other proceeds, forbehind all there was real prosperity. Men's money poured first into ahigher and then into a lower grade of security and raised each inturn, so that fortunes were made with astonishing speed. The banksgave extended credit; everything rose. Many who had bought in fearfound that they had cleared a profit before they had had time totremble. They sold, and still there were others to take their place.It seemed as if all had only to buy and to sell and to grow rich. Onlythe very cautious stood aside, and one by one even these slid temptedinto the stream.
The more venturesome hazarded their money afar, buying shares insteamship companies in the West Indies, in diamond mines in Brazil, orin cattle companies in Mexico. The more prudent preferred undertakingswhich they could see and which their limited horizon could compass,and to these such a local scheme as the Valleys Railroad held out atempting bait. They knew nothing about a railroad, but they knew thatsteam had been applied to ocean travel, and they knew Aldersbury andthe woollen district. Here was something the growth and progress ofwhich they could watch, and which once begun could not vanish in anight.
Then the silence of those within and the rumors spread without addedto its attractions. Each man felt that his neighbor was stealing amarch upon him, and that if he were not quick he would not get in onequal terms.
One of Ovington's waylayers wished to know if the limit at which hehad been advised to sell his stock was likely to be reached. "I soldon Saturday," the banker answered, "two pounds above your limit,Davies. The money will be in the bank in a week." He spoke withNapoleonic curtness, and rode on, leaving the man, amazed andjubilant, to calculate his gains.
The next wanted advice. He had a hundred in hand if Mr. Ovington wouldnot think it too small. "Call to-morrow--no, Thursday," Ovington said,hardly looking at him. "I'll see you then."
The third ran bare-headed out of a shop. He was a man of more weight,Purslow the big draper on Bride Hill, who had been twice Mayor ofAldersbury; a tradesman, bald and sleek, whom fortune had raised sorapidly that old subservience was continually at odds with newimportance. "Just a word, Mr. Ovington," he stuttered, "a word, sir,by your leave? I'm a good customer." He had not laid aside his blackapron but merely twisted it round his waist, a sure sign, in thesedays of his greatness, that he was flustered.
The banker nodded. "None better, Purslow," he answered. "What is it?"
"What I says, then--excuse me--is, if Grounds, why not me? Why not me,sir?"
"I don't quite----"
"If he's to be on the Board, he and his mash-tubs----"
"Oh!" The banker looked grave. "You are thinking of the Railroad,Purslow?"
"To be sure! What else?--excuse me, sir! And what I say is, ifGrounds, why not me? I've been mayor twice and him not even on theCouncil? And I'm not a pauper, as none knows better than you, Mr.Ovington. If it's only that I'm a tradesman, why, there ought to be atradesman on it, and I'll be bound as many will follow my lead asGrounds'."
The banker seemed to consider. "Look here, Purslow," he said, "you aredoing very well, not a man in Aldersbury better. Take my advice andstick to the shop."
"And slave for every penny I make!"
"Slow and sure is a good rule."
"Oh, damn slow and sure!" cried the draper, forgetting his manners."No offence, sir, I'm sure. Excuse me. But slow and sure, whileGrounds is paid for every time he crosses the street, and doubles hismoney while he wears out his breeches!"
"Well," said Ovington, with apparent reluctance, "I'll think it over.But to sit on the Board means putting in money, Purslow. You knowthat, of course."
"And haven't I the money?" the man cried, inflamed by opposition."Can't I put down penny for penny with Grounds? Ay, though I've servedthe town twice, and him not even on the Council!"
"Well, I'll bear it in mind. I can say no more than that," Ovingtonrejoined. "I must consult Sir Charles. It's a responsible position,Purslow. And, of course, where there are large profits, as we hopethere may be, there must be risk. There must be some risk. Don'tforget that. Still," touching up his horse with his heel, "I'll seewhat I can do."
He gained the bank without further stay, an
d there the stir and bustlewhich his practised eye was quick to mark sustained the note alreadystruck. There were customers coming and going: some paying in, othersseeking to have bills renewed, or a loan on securities that they mightpay calls, or accommodation of one kind or another. But with easymoney these demands could be granted, and many a parcel of Ovington'snotes passed out amid smiling and general content. The January sun wasshining as if March winds would never blow, and credit seemed to be athing to be had for the asking.
It was only within the last seven years that Ovington's had venturedon an issue of notes. Then, a little before the resumption of cashpayments, they had put them forth with a tentative, "If you had ratherhave bank paper it's here." Some had had the bad taste to prefer theAbraham Newlands, a few had even asked for Dean's notes. But borrowerscannot be choosers, the notes had gradually got abroad, and though atfirst they had returned with the rapidity of a homing pigeon, thereadiness with which they were cashed wrought its effect, and by thistime the public were accustomed to them.
Dean's notes bore a big D, and Ovington's, for the benefit of thosewho could not read, were stamped with a large CO., for CharlesOvington.
Alone with his daughter that evening the banker referred to this."Betty," he said, after a long silence, "I am going to make a change.I am going to turn CO. into Company."
She understood him at once, and "Oh, father!" she cried, laying downher work. "Who is it? Is it Arthur?"
"Would you like that?"
She replied by another question. "Is he really so clever?"
"He's a gentleman--that's much. And a Griffin, and that's more, in aplace like this. And he's--yes, he's certainly clever."
"Cleverer than Mr. Rodd?"
"Rodd! Pooh! Arthur's worth two of him."
"Quite the industrious apprentice!" she murmured, her hands in herlap.
"Well, you know," lightly, "what happened to the industriousapprentice, Betty?"
She colored. "He married his master's daughter, didn't he? But thereare two words to that, father. Quite two words."
"Well, I am going to offer him a small share. Anything more willdepend upon himself--and Clement."
She sighed. "Poor Clement!"
"Poor Clement!" The banker repeated her words pettishly. "Not poorClement, but idle Clement! Can you do nothing with that boy? Put nosense into him? He's good for nothing in the world except to moonabout with a gun. Last night he began to talk to me about Cobbett andsome new wheat. New wheat, indeed! Rubbish!"
"But I think," timidly, "that he does understand about those things,father."
"And what good will they do him? I wish he understood a little moreabout banking! Why, even Rodd is worth two of him. He's not in thebank four days in the week. Where is he to-day?"
"I am afraid that he took his gun--but it was the last day of theseason. He said that he would not be out again. He has been reallybetter lately."
"Though I was away!" the banker exclaimed. And he said some strongthings upon the subject, to which Betty had to listen.
However, he had recovered his temper when he sent for Arthur next day.He bade him close the door. "I want to speak to you," he said; then hepaused a moment while Arthur waited, his color rising. "It's aboutyourself. When you came to me I did not expect much from theexperiment. I thought that you would soon tire of it, being what youare. But you have stood to it, and you have shown a considerableaptitude for the business. And I have made up my mind to take youin--on conditions, of course."
Arthur's eyes sparkled. He had not hoped that the offer would be madeso soon, and, much moved, he tried to express his thanks. "You may besure that I shall do my best, sir," he said.
"I believe you will, lad. I believe you will. Indeed, I am thinking ofmyself as well as of you. I had not intended to make the offer sosoon--you are young and could wait. But you will have to bring in acertain sum, and capital can be used at present to great advantage."
Arthur looked grave. "I am afraid, sir----"
"Oh, I'll make it easy," Ovington said. "This is my offer. You willput in five thousand pounds, and will receive for three years twelveper cent upon this in lieu of your present salary of one hundred andfifty--the hundred you are to be paid as Secretary to the Company isbeside the matter. At the end of three years, if we are bothsatisfied, you will take an eighth share--otherwise you will draw outyour money. On my death, if you remain in the bank, your share will beincreased to a third on your bringing in another five thousand. Youknow enough about the accounts to know----"
"That it's a most generous offer," Arthur exclaimed, his face aglow.And with the frankness and enthusiasm, the sparkling eye and readyword that won him so many friends, he expressed his thanks.
"Well, lad," the other answered pleasantly, "I like you. Still, youhad better take a short time to consider the matter."
"I want no time," Arthur declared. "My only difficulty is about themoney. My mother's six thousand is charged on Garth, you see."
This was a fact well known to Ovington, and one which he had takeninto his reckoning. Perhaps, but for it, he had not been making theoffer at this moment. But he concealed his satisfaction and a smile,and "Isn't there a provision for calling it up?" he said.
"Yes, there is--at three months. But I am afraid that my mother----"
"Surely she would not object under the circumstances. The increasedincome might be divided between you so that it would be to her profitas well as to your advantage to make the change. Three months, eh?Well, suppose we say the money to be paid and the articles ofpartnership to be signed four months from now?"
Difficulties never loomed very large in this young man's eyes. "Verygood, sir," he said. "Upon my honor, I don't know how to thank you."
"It won't be all on your side," the banker answered good-humoredly."Your name's worth something, and you are keen. I wish to heaven youcould infect Clement with a tithe of your keenness."
"I'll try, sir," Arthur replied. At that moment he felt that he couldmove mountains.
"Well, that's settled, then. Send Rodd to me, will you, and do you seeif I have left my pocket-book in the house. Betty may know where itis."
Arthur went through the bank, stepping on air. He gave Rodd hismessage, and in a twinkling he was in the house. As he crossed thehall his heart beat high. Lord, how he would work! What feats ofbanking he would perform! How great would he make Ovington's, so thatnot only Aldshire but Lombard Street should ring with its fame! Whatwealth would he not pile up, what power would he not build upon it,and how he would crow, in the days to come, over the dull-wittedclod-hopping Squires from whom he sprang, and who had not the brainsto see that the world was changing about them and their reignapproaching its end!
For at this moment he felt that he had it in him to work miracles. Thegreatest things seemed easy. The fortunes of Ovington's lay in thefuture, the cycle half turned--to what a point might they not carrythem! During the last twelve months he had seen money earned with anease which made all things appear possible; and alert, eager,sanguine, with an inborn talent for business, he felt that he had butto rise with the flowing tide to reach any position which wealth couldoffer in the coming age--that age which enterprise and industry, theloan, the mill, the furnace were to make their own. The age of gold!
He burst into song. He stopped. "Betty!" he cried.
"Who is that rude boy?" the girl retorted, appearing on the stairsabove him.
He bowed with ceremony, his hand on his heart, his eyes dancing. "Yousee before you the Industrious Apprentice!" he said. "He has receivedthe commendation of his master. It remains only that he should lay hissuccess at the feet of--his master's daughter!"
She blushed, despite herself. "How silly you are!" she cried. But whenhe set his foot on the lowest stair as if to join her, she fled nimblyup and escaped. On the landing above she stood. "Congratulations,sir," she said, looking over the balusters. "But a little lessforwardness and a little more modesty, if you please! It was not inyour articles that you should call me Betty."<
br />
"They are cancelled! They are gone!" he retorted. "Come down, Betty!Come down and I will tell you such things!"
But she only made a mocking face at him and vanished. A moment laterher voice broke forth somewhere in the upper part of the house. She,too, was singing.
Ovington's Bank Page 5
