George Peabody, the great philanthropist, made his fortune and his fame in a little dark, dingy office in Warnford Court, London. The pretensions of the great firm of Topman and Gusher were not to be confined by any such examples of economy.
A very clerical-looking man, with a round, smooth face, a somewhat portly figure, a high forehead, and a very bald, bright head, fringed with grey hair, and nicely trimmed grey side whiskers, stood at a desk, turning and re-turning the leaves of a big ledger. He was dressed in a neat black suit, and wore a white neckerchief. There was ledger No. 1, and ledger No. 2, and ledger No. 3, all so elegantly bound, and expressive of the business relations of the great firm of Topman and Gusher. It looked very much, however, as if the portly gentleman was only a part of the ornamental department of the great firm, for, having turned and re-turned the pages of No. 1, he would take up No. 2, and continue the occupation. It is true, he would pause now and then, and exchange a smile and a bow with some one of the customers waiting for stock.
There was also a slender, mild-mannered, and precisely-dressed young man, standing at another desk, and looking through a pair of gold-framed spectacles into a ledger. This was Mr. Foblins, registry clerk to the great firm. Mr. Foblins had a brigade of figures in column, and seemed continually busy putting them through a course of tactics known only to the firm. Mr. Foblins had his customers in column, with the number of shares and the amount invested, in front and rear ranks.
The word "Cashier" was painted over a third desk. And here a rollicking, talkative little man, with a round fat face, and a round bald head—a sort of fat boy that had been overtaken on the road of life by maturity—and who seemed to have a joke and a pleasant word for everybody, and was in the best of humor with himself, stood counting and re-counting, and passing out and receiving in money. This was Mr. Books, the merry little man of the establishment. Books entertained an excellent opinion of himself, and was in high favor with the customers, for he was witty, musical, and talkative. More than that, he was a stately little man, and well informed in all the great political movements of the day, and would entertain customers on the condition of the nation while counting their money. It was evident that Mr. Books was not in sympathy with the great enterprise his employers were developing, for he was continually saying witty but malicious things about Gusher, and would even point significantly with his thumb over his right shoulder. When a more than ordinarily verdant customer would come with his money, Mr. Books would shrug his shoulders, drum with his fingers on the desk, and hum a tune to the words—
"Fortunes made, and fortunes lost;
Fools seek the phantom here at last," &c., &c.
Books had several times intimated an intention to set up a great enterprising banking and miscellaneous firm of his own. Indeed, his popularity with the patrons of the house was doing Mr. Books no good, especially as it entailed the necessity of his taking so great a number of drinks during the day that he would offer to bet the reputation of the firm that he was the tallest man in the establishment, and a politer man than Gusher. So good an opinion had Mr. Books of himself when under these little delusions, occasioned accidentally, as he would say, that it became a serious question with him whether his proud position was due to Topman and Gusher or his own great merits. In fine, it had more than once occurred to him that the firm was indebted to his personal popularity for its great reputation.
Mr. Gusher consulted Mr. Books, and entrusted him with the little woman's money. Then he proceeded to Mr. Foblin's desk, that gentleman turning over the pages of his big ledger preparatory to making an entry.
"What name did you say? I have the amount," enquired that gentleman, looking up earnestly over his spectacles.
"If you please, madam," said he, approaching the little woman with a bow, "you shall have no objection to give me your name. It is necessary as we shall keep ze book so correct."
The little woman hesitated for a moment, fingered the handle of her satchel nervously, then looked up inquiringly in Mr. Gusher's face. Then touching him timidly on the right arm with the fore-finger of her left hand she whispered, "Nautical, nautical, my nautical name?" Then her lips motioned and her finger pressed on Mr. Gusher's arm. Mr. Gusher looked at the little woman with an air of surprise and astonishment.