"I have never said a word to old Wharton about money," Lopez replied,—"except as to the cost of this election I was telling you of."
"And he wouldn't do anything in that?"
"He doesn't approve of the thing itself. I don't doubt but that the old gentleman and I shall understand each other before long."
"You've got the length of his foot."
"But I don't mean to drive him. I can get along without that. He's an old man, and he can't take his money along with him when he goes the great journey."
"There's a brother, Lopez,—isn't there?"
"Yes,—there's a brother; but Wharton has enough for two; and if he were to put either out of his will it wouldn't be my wife. Old men don't like parting with their money, and he's like other old men. If it were not so I shouldn't bother myself coming into the city at all."
"Has he enough for that, Lopez?"
"I suppose he's worth a quarter of a million."
"By Jove! And where did he get it?"