Within the financial sanctum, a little shrivelled-up man sat at a large table which was placed in the middle of the room. His face was clean-shaven but for a pair of grizzled mutton-chop whiskers, and as he bent over his papers he showed a little bald patch on the top of his crown.
Scarlett and Mr. Crewe stood side by side, in front of him.
“I have come from the diggings,” said Jack, “and have called to ask ...”
“Oh ... How do you do, Mr. Crewe? Be seated, sir.... Be seated, both of you.... A lovely day, Mr. Crewe; a perfectly beautiful day. Take a seat, sir, I beg.”
But as the chairs stood a long way off against the wall, old Mr. Crewe and Jack only glanced at them.
“I’ve come to ask,” continued Scarlett, “that you will establish a branch of your Bank on Bush Robin Creek.”
The Manager looked first at Scarlett and then at Mr. Crewe. “You’re very good,” he said. “Establish a branch on the diggings? Gentlemen, do be seated.” So saying, he journeyed to a far wall, and returned with a couple of chairs, which he dragged after him to where his visitors stood.
“It would be a great convenience to the diggers,” said Jack, “to sell their gold on the field, and receive drafts on your Bank. Then, they would travel with more safety and less fear of being robbed.”
“It’s worth thinking of,” said the Manager, when he had seen that both Scarlett and Mr. Crewe were seated.
“It should be profitable to the Bank,” said Mr. Crewe, “and that, sir, is your main consideration.”