"He comes of good stock," said she at last. "Blood always tells."
"Good stock," assented Grant, "on both sides of the house. If his father was a Toppys of Devon, his mother is a Hula of New Guinea. Willatopy is grit all though."
"I am very very much obliged to you," said Madame. "I understand now something of the father and more of the son. Believe me I wish Willatopy nothing that is not good."
"Then," said Grant very seriously, "if you mean him nothing except good you will sail away from the Torres Straits and trouble him no more."
CHAPTER VIII TOPS ISLAND
Three days later at noon the Humming Top, with thick oily smoke pouring from her funnel, was getting up steam and awaiting her pilot. Alexander Ewing, a grim happy Ewing, was down in the engine-room. For days he had been stimulating the hunger of a market by exiguous sales at the most appalling of prices; when money failed he graciously accepted pearl—at his own valuation. Reflecting now upon his work, he saw that it had been very good. And since the financial risk had been laid to account of Sir John Toppys and all the profits were divisible between himself and Ching, no thought of dividends payable to the Idle Rich obtruded to mar his pure satisfaction. He had become, by exercise of his own brains, a profiteer and a capeetalist—and the world was a very pleasant place. But though conscious of well-doing, his great mind had been for a while slightly disturbed by two exasperating thoughts. In a moment of expansive generosity, while receiving the congratulations of Madame upon his commercial abilities, he had presented her with a large pearl. He did not grudge a present to one whom he loved—and in his queer fashion he really loved Madame Gilbert—but it had been an unnecessarily large pearl. A smaller one would have earned for him as sweet a smile of thanks. Alexander hated an over-payment. And he never could forget that five per cent. for the officers and men which Madame had wrung from his grip. Even as he rejoiced in his gains, and counted them over in his recollection, that five per cent.—a whole shilling in every pound sterling—worried him dreadfully. It was as bad as an income tax. He wondered how Madame would take a proposal that some charge under the head of a "management expenses" should be debited against that five per cent. If a labourer were worthy of reward for his bodily toil, surely Alexander Ewing should be conceded some adequate remuneration for the wor-r-k of his br-r-ains.
And while he reflected upon the flies which always will defile the most perfect human ointment, an inspiration came to him. Only really great business minds are favoured in this way. He saw that he might make good the cost of Madame's excessively large pearl, and recover no small portion of that scandalous five per cent., by judicious wangling of the accounts. It was an operation which promised almost infinite possibilities, a simple operation seeing that no one except himself had any grasp of the true principles of finance. A grievous load lifted from his mind. God was in His Heaven—luckily a long way off—and all was right with the world. Human happiness is so rare that one loves to contemplate it unalloyed. I figure to myself Alexander Ewing, in his engine-room, grimly and perfectly happy.