"You can't do better than five per cent," he had said to her, "not with first-class security, such as this is."
All that had been well enough. Five per cent and first-class security were, she knew, matters of business; and though Mr Rubb had winked his eye at her as he spoke of them, leaning forward in his chair and looking at her not at all as a man of business, but quite in a friendly way, yet she had felt that she was so far safe. She nodded her head also, merely intending him to understand thereby that she herself understood something about business. But when he suddenly changed the subject, and asked her how she liked Mr Stumfold's set, she drew herself up suddenly and placed herself at once upon her guard.
"I have heard a great deal about Mr Stumfold," continued Mr Rubb, not appearing to observe the lady's altered manner, "not only here and where I have been for the last few days, but up in London also. He is quite a public character, you know."
"Clergymen in towns, who have large congregations, always must so be, I suppose."
"Well, yes; more or less. But Mr Stumfold is decidedly more, and not less. People say he is going in for a bishopric."
"I had not heard it," said Miss Mackenzie, who did not quite understand what was meant by going in for a bishopric.
"Oh, yes, and a very likely man he would have been a year or two ago. But they say the prime minister has changed his tap lately."
"Changed his tap!" said Miss Mackenzie.
"He used to draw his bishops very bitter, but now he draws them mild and creamy. I dare say Stumfold did his best, but he didn't quite get his hay in while the sun shone."
"He seems to me to be very comfortable where he is," said Miss Mackenzie.