'Not that I know of; but these fortunes made in a day, so to speak, generally melt away in the same way.'
'I understood he was a solid man,' said the second speaker.
'So he is—so he is, for aught I know. I only know that we all have that feeling about him. Perhaps the wish is father to the thought, for he's none too popular.'
'Still, you need not wish him to be ruined, even if you don't like him. I suppose he does some good with his money? These rich Yorkshire manufacturers are most generous as a rule,' said the other, evidently a stranger.
'He's an exception. His half-brother, Howroyd, gives twice as much, with not a quarter his money. Pity he's not the millionaire, now. He's beloved far and near.'
'What's wrong with Clay? This is a generous entertainment, for instance.'
'Oh yes, he'll do this to show off; but he's an awful brute to his workpeople—grinds them down and shows no mercy to weak or worn-out employés.'
'Here, Horatia, I've got the ice,' said young Maddox.
'Thank you. I'm glad we're not millionaires, Jack. People only hate you for it,' she remarked.
'Do they? I'd chance that if I could be one. Look what this man can do? Anything he likes! Make a rink in a day! Come on and have a turn,' said young Maddox, to whom this particular example of the power of wealth naturally appealed.