“Veins of tin, eh?” said the doctor.
“Perhaps of copper too,” said Geoffrey. “If you have a hundred or two to spare—”
“I’ve got four or five hundred of my wife’s money, but not to spare,” said the doctor. “Brings us in three and a half per cent.”
“I wouldn’t promise,” said Geoffrey, enthusiastically; “but I sha’n’t be satisfied if I don’t make that mine return its company thirty, forty, perhaps fifty, per cent.”
“Dr Rumsey,” said the lady, whose nose had been travelling in quite a circle round the centre of her face, “it is your duty to invest that money in this mine.”
“But it isn’t a regular company, is it?”
“No,” said Geoffrey, “but it is in my power to get a little interest in the affair for a friend.”
“If I could feel sure,” said the doctor, dubiously.
“I would not advise you against your good,” said Geoffrey, earnestly. “I am certain the mine will pay.”
“Thirty, forty, or fifty per cent?”