"Oh, there was no time to write; and ladies do not use the telegram." He added slyly, "Perhaps she thought coming in person would do as well, or better, eh!"
"But why does he telegraph you instead of me?"
"I am sure I don't know. What does it matter? Yes, I do know. It was settled months ago that he and Helen should come to me at Elmtrees, so I was the proper person to telegraph. I'll go and meet them at the station; there is plenty of time. But, I say, Arthur, have you seen the papers? Bartley Brothers obliged to wind up. Maple & Cox, of Liverpool, gone; Atlantic trading. Terry & Brown suspended, International credit gone. Old friends, some of these. Hopley & Timms, railway contractors, failed, sir; liabilities, seven hundred thousand pounds and more."
"Yes, sir," said Arthur, pompously. "1866 will long be remembered for its revelations of commercial morality."
The old gentleman, on this, asked his son, with excusable vanity, whether he had done ill in steering clear of speculation; he then congratulated him on having listened to good advice and stuck to legitimate business. "I must say, Arthur," added be, "your books are models for any trading firm."
Arthur winced in secret under this praise, for it occurred to him that in a few days his father would discover those books were all a sham and the accounts a fabrication.
However, the unpleasant topic was soon interrupted, and effectually, too; for Michael looked in, with an air of satisfaction on his benevolent countenance, and said, "Gentlemen, such an arrival! Here is Miss Rouse's sweetheart, that she dreamed was drowned."
"What is the man to me?" said Arthur peevishly. He did not recognize Wylie under that title.
"La, Mr. Arthur! why, he is the mate of the Proserpine," said Penfold.
"What! Wylie! Joseph Wylie?" cried Arthur, in a sudden excitement that contrasted strangely with his previous indifference.