"I suppose we both can't have it. We'll toss for it! that is when the business details are over. You make an offer of ten—and then fifteen, or more, if necessary. Your hand upon it! Play fair—this is not the stock-market!"
The two eminent financiers grasped hands. An instant later Mr. Foster entered.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen."
"Not at all, Mr. Foster," replied Sterling. "We read in the papers you were going to Italy, and thought you would like to dispose of some of your curiosities. May we look around?"
"Certainly. I would like to sell some of the things. I hate to do it. But to be frank with you the illness of my daughter has proved a great expense. I'm forced to sell out."
The two gentlemen looked around. One purchased a satsuma vase for a hundred dollars—seventy-five more than it was worth! The other, after much consideration, bought an East Indian brass bowl for fifty dollars—an extravagant price. They seemed to ignore the beautiful vase in a glass cabinet in the corner. They were unconscious of its existence!
"I have something really fine, gentlemen—the hawthorn vase purchased by my grandfather. You know about it?"
"I heard something of it once—but I've forgotten all about it. I would be glad to look at the vase."
They bent their heads. A thrill ran through them as they beheld the wonderful purple and the perfect glaze.
"That's not bad. Of course, its shape might be better. People, nowadays, want the green or black. I have a beautiful famille rose. What do you want for it?"