“Oh! we shall see,” returned the minister coolly. “These are not things to be done in a hurry,” he added, as if he had been guardian to twenty wards in chancery before. “We’ll see in a few days what Mr. Torrie proposes.”
“But I want my money at once,” insisted Gibbie. “I have been waiting for it, and now it is time, and why should I wait still?”
“To learn patience, if for no other reason, Sir Gilbert,” answered the minister, with a hard laugh, meant to be jocular. “But indeed such affairs cannot be managed in a moment. You will have plenty of time to make a good use of your money, if you should have to wait another year or two.”
So saying he pushed back his plate and cup, a trick he had, and rose from the table.
“When will you see Mr. Torrie?” asked Gibbie, rising too, and working his telegraph with greater rapidity than before.
“By and by,” answered Mr. Sclater, and walked towards the door. But Gibbie got between him and it.
“Will you go with me to Mr. Torrie to-day?” he asked.
The minister shook his head. Gibbie withdrew, seeming a little disappointed. Mr. Sclater left the room.
“You don’t understand business, Gilbert,” said Mrs. Sclater.
Gibbie smiled, got his writing-case, and sitting down at the table, wrote as follows:—