"Why!" Her face lighted. "I know a man! Mr. Dalton would be a good man for him!" she exclaimed. "He'd be good for anybody!"
"You speak as if he were a pill!" said Medfield dryly. He had faith in Aunt Jane; and the more he studied the face under its muslin cap, the more faith he had—and something that was not faith, perhaps.... But as a man of business——
"He's just the one you want," said Aunt Jane with decision.
"Well—?" He resigned himself.
"He's obstinate— Of course, any man is obstinate," she interpolated kindly. "But he's more set than anybody I've ever seen! Seems as if it was part of his make-up, somehow.... I was talking with him the other day and he was telling me about how he'd never succeeded yet——"
There was a little amused and courteous smile on the millionaire's face. He had seen men before who had not succeeded—yet.
Aunt Jane nodded to it. "He said he couldn't stop to pick up the twopenny bits they wanted him to—because he saw something ahead—and all round him, kind of—that was worth more. So he was always having to move on." She rocked a little.
Medfield sat up. His hand reached out to the pile of papers and found a pencil.
"What did you say his name was?"
There was a keen little edge of interest to the words.