"Ah, yes, so he says," she replied, with a glance of derision, "that sort of creature would promise you the moon."
"Oh, he has not much to do with the business, merely a messenger, from the agents of Jaffer and Co. As soon as they give me the office, I'm off."
"Are you?" she exclaimed rather blankly, "and what about Fan, and Uncle Fred?"
"He knows my object in coming out. I told him at once—in fact, within the first five minutes."
"And?" now leaning forward, her chin on her hands.
"And—he won't help me. He is dead against me in this; in fact, he can't bear it spoken of; we had a bit of a breeze to-day, and the subject is barred!"
"Uncle Fred has a commonplace imagination, tied up in red tape, and fastened with a sealed pattern knot, but a very long head on his square little shoulders. I pin my faith to his opinion. Still, I feel conscious of the magnetism that belongs to a man of purpose, and I must confess, that your romantic enterprise appeals to me; I will do all I can to help you to find one, or the other. I'll be your mouse; your Uncle—or the impostor—the lion!"
"Thank you awfully, my kind mouse."
"The woman who could assist you substantially, is Mrs. Fiske; unfortunately, she is not a mouse but a cat!"
"I can't bear the sight of her!"