“Well, I don’t know. I’m not particular. I take a hundred per cent, when I can’t get a hundred and fifty.”
“A hundred and fifty per cent! My dear Richard, you must put me on to this. We must be partners, Dick—Shingle Brothers, eh? But, my dear boy, what business are you in?”
“Oh, yes—that’s it!” said Dick, closing one eye slowly, and keeping it shut while he fixed the other on the ceiling. “But here are the ladies.”
As he spoke, Mrs Shingle and Jessie entered the room.
“Never!” exclaimed Max, with an air of wonderment. “My dear sister, my dear niece—years younger on the one side, years more beautiful on the other. What a change since I saw you last!”
“There’s better light in this room than in the old one, Max; and it flatters, perhaps,” said Dick.
“Yes, so there is, Richard. That was a cruel cold place. But why speak of the past? My dear niece, you have really grown beautiful. Fred would be charmed to see you.”
Jessie’s eyes contracted as she gazed full at him, and then, bending her head slightly, turned away.
“Haven’t you married him to a lady of fortune yet?” said Dick.
“Oh no!” cried Max hastily. “He is not engaged. Tom is—to my ward, Violante—a charming girl.”