"You mean what kind of glass?"
"Yes, sir; if it—if it is glass."
"Then you think it is not glass?"
"That's what we want to find out."
This uncle was not misled by his nephew's earnestness. He knew William, and he knew him to be a ready believer in interesting things; one who could pin his faith on whatever he really wished to believe. And the uncle had learned that this capacity, combined with a lively imagination, became a perilous guide in matters of business. However, he held the object higher, between his eyes and the window.
"You think it might be rock crystal?" Then, turning to the visitor, "What is your own opinion, Mr. Alton?"
"Oh, I have no opinion; only hopes."
"And what are your hopes?"
Now Cyrus Alton had easily divined the Senior Partner's thoughts. "Hope is so inexpensive," he answered, "that I have been indulging in the brightest kind. But if I am flying too high I can easily come to earth again. Is it nothing but glass, after all?"
"Oh, I don't say that."