We must go back into the city now. It was a morning in early May. Knots of men were standing on the corners of Wall and Pearl streets, each discussing in animated tones some question of finance or trade. Men with hurried steps and curious faces passed to and fro, threading their way through the pressing throng, as if the nation was in peril and they were on a mission to save it. And yet it was only an expression of that eagerness which our people display in their haste to despatch some object in the ordinary business routine of the day.
It was on this morning that a woman of small and compact figure, dressed in plain green silk, a red India shawl, and a large, odd-shaped straw bonnet, called a "poke" in those days, on her head, and trimmed inside with a profusion of artificial flowers, the whole giving her an air of extreme quaintness, was seen looking up doubtingly at the door opening to the stairs at the top of which Topman and Gusher had their counting-rooms. She had the appearance of a woman in good circumstances, just from the country, where her style of dress might have been in fashion at that day. Her age, perhaps, was in the vicinity of forty, for her hair was changing to grey, and hung in neat braids down the sides of her face, which was round and ruddy, and still gleamed with the freshness of youth. Her shawl-pin was a heavy gold anchor and chain, and her wrists were clasped with heavy gold bracelets, bearing a shield, on which was inscribed a sailor with his quadrant poised, in the act of taking the sun. I ought also to add that she carried a big umbrella in her left hand, and a small leathern satchel in her right.
This quaint little woman's manner was exceedingly nervous and hesitating. Twice or thrice she advanced up the passage to the foot of the stairs, hesitated, returned to the door, and looked up at the number, as if still uncertain about some project on trial in her mind.
Men were passing in and out, and up and down the stairs hurriedly, as if some important business required all their attention. The little woman took no heed of any of them, and indeed seemed confused in her own thoughts. Drawing a newspaper from her leathern bag she read in a whisper, at the same time tracing the lines with her finger, "Great Kidd Discovery Company. Capital $150,000. All paid in. President, Luke Topman. Corresponding Secretary, Philo Gusher. No. —— Pearl street." The little woman nodded her head, and looked up with an air of satisfaction. "I'm right. This is the place," she muttered to herself. Then putting the paper carefully into her pocket, and hugging the big umbrella close to her side, she advanced with a more resolute step up the passage, and was soon at the top of the stairs.
Again the little woman paused, for the number of names over doors seemed to confuse her. Just across the passage in front of her, however, she read over a half-glass door, and in large gilt letters, "Topman and Gusher, General Commission Business." And just below, and across the panes of ground glass, were the significant and attractive words: "Kidd Discovery Company. Capital $150,000. Luke Topman, President. Philo Gusher, Corresponding Secretary."
The little woman advanced and knocked timidly at the door, which was opened by a nicely-clad and polite youth, whose business seemed to be to admit customers. The little woman bowed and returned the young man's salutation.
"A lady visitor, Mr. Gusher!" said the young man, motioning the lady to enter. "That is Mr. Gusher, madam; junior partner of the firm."
A polished mahogany railing separated the vulgar customer from the highly dignified looking clerks inside. Indeed, there was an air of elegance about the establishment that somewhat surprised the little woman at first, and caused her some embarrassment.
"Ah, madam; pardon! pardon!" said Mr. Gusher, rising from his desk at the announcement and advancing to the railing. "I shall do myself ze pleazure, and ze honor of receiving such commands as you shall confide to ze firm," he continued, smiling and bowing gracefully.
"A little investment," returned the visitor, nervously. "I have a little money, left by my husband, who is at sea. I have no immediate use for it; but want to put it where it will be entirely safe. Entirely safe, above all things; a good dividend will not be objectionable. I am sure, sir, you understand that—"