“It is because of the good we can do with so much, papa. Indeed, I want to dispose of some at once.”
“Speak, Helen. It must be a large favor that I would not grant you.”
“But this is a hundred and fifty dollars, papa.”
“Half an hour since that would have seemed a large sum to me, Helen; now, I believe I can afford it. Tell me what use you wish to make of it.”
“You know Herbert Coleman, papa, the young artist opposite.”
“A very gentlemanly young man. Well, my dear?”
“He is in great trouble. His money is exhausted, and because he is so young and unknown, he cannot sell his picture. He has had an offer from his uncle to go into a country store to sell groceries, and fears he must abandon art and accept this offer, for want of money to keep him here in New York. He told me last evening that if he could only sell his picture—you have seen it, papa: the ‘Country Farm-house,’ you know—for a hundred and fifty dollars, he could remain in the city six months longer.”
“And you want me to buy the picture, Helen?”
“Yes, papa.”
“Very well, but I have not so much ready money. I do not understand such things. Mr. Sharp will know whether there will be any delay in coming into possession of this property.”