“And relations,” Jacob murmured.
The young man grinned.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “the old man overshot the bolt a bit there. Done ’em all in the eye for several thou of the best. I fancy he’s going to seek the seclusion of a distant clime for a month or two.... But as I was saying, he’s always on to me about you. ‘My boy,’ he said, in his best Lord Chesterfield manner, ‘you have contracted a valuable acquaintance with that very personable and shrewd young financier whom you introduced to us at Ascot. It rests with you to see that that acquaintance is made of profit to the family.’”
“I am afraid,” Jacob observed, “that in that way I have been rather a disappointment.”
“The governor isn’t easily discouraged,” Felixstowe replied, “and the mater’s got something up her sleeve for you. But placing their own interests in the background, as my revered sire pointed out, it is certainly, in his opinion, up to you to find me a job.”
“You can go into the office and file letters, at three pounds a week, whenever you like,” Jacob suggested.
The young man picked himself up in hurt fashion.
“See whether we win our heat this afternoon against the Crimson Sashes,” he said. “I’ve a couple of ponies on, which ought to keep me going till Thursday, if we win. Shall I tool you down to Ranelagh, old chap?”
“What, in the bassinet I saw you in yesterday? There were three policemen running down St. James’s Street after you.”