“He is rich, then?”—this was interrogative.
“Mr. Stewart,” said the promoter, desperately, “don’t you know all about Compton Raidsford, as well as I know about you? Don’t you know he is very rich—so rich that he would not touch shares in the Bank of England? Don’t you know he hates all companies—that having grubbed his own way up, he believes anybody else can grub up unassisted also? Don’t you know he is a prying, meddling, conceited, cursed upstart?” finished Mr. Black.
“I cannot say that I do—in fact, I cannot say that I know the man at all,” answered Mr. Stewart.
“Well, you need not say, but I may think,” snapped up Mr. Black; “and, with regard to the question you put to me some time since, all I have got to remark is this—I will work with you, and for you and myself, if you will let me; but there is a limit to all things. I cannot stand being bullied and interfered with. Let me work the company my own way, and I will take what amount of advice you choose to give, and act on it if I can. I am a good servant, if I am let alone—interfere with this, that, and the other, and I am apt to turn restive. If you take the right way with me, you will not find me unreasonable; but I tell you fairly to begin with, that though a child might lead, the devil himself should not drive me.”
“I must advertise for an intelligent three-year-old, then,” laughed Mr. Stewart, “for I shall certainly not attempt driving you. Only, I mean to have my way in some things, remember. I am a little like you, Mr. Black—averse to being crossed; so it will be better for us to agree to go the same road, rather than always be pulling contrary ways. You will bear in mind what I said about our company being made a refuge, and not repeat such a mistake. I shall look in again after Christmas; meantime, allow me to wish you the compliments of the season.”
“Thank you; same to you, sir,” answered Mr. Black, forced to accept the civility, but by no means mollified by it.
“I hope the new year may prove a prosperous one to us all,” said Mr. Stewart, meditatively, looking into his hat.
“I hope so too,” the promoter agreed; “it shall not be for want of any exertions on my part if the company fail.”
“Fail,” repeated Mr. Stewart; “fail! it shall not fail! Conducted with ordinary prudence, it should be a perfect mine of wealth. There is scarcely a public bakery in England which has not paid the most enormous dividends; and what is the field in any county or provincial town in comparison to that which is open for us in London? Three millions of bread-eaters, and not a large bakery to supply them!”
“You may remember that I make a somewhat similar observation in the prospectus,” remarked Mr. Black, not sorry to have an opportunity of indirectly accusing Mr. Stewart of plagiarism.