“The buffetings of the world are an excellent training for the world’s affairs.”
“Maybe so, maybe so,” his visitor conceded. “However, there are other trainings—trainings of finer quality, Mr. Grant—than those which have to do with subsistence. I have been able to give my daughters the best education that money could command, and, if I do say it, I permit myself some gratification over the result. Gretta is comfortably and happily married,—a young man of some distinction in the financial world—a Mr. Powers, Mr. Newton Powers—you may happen to know him; Madge, I think, is always going to be her mother’s girl; Caroline is still heart-free, although one can never tell—”
“Oh, mother!” the girl protested, blushing daintily.
“I said you could never tell, Mr. Grant,—while handsome young men like yourself are at large.” Mrs. LeCord laughed heartily, as much as to say that her remark must be regarded only as a little pleasantry. “But you will think I am a gossipy old body,” she continued briskly. “I really came to discuss certain financial matters. Since Mr. LeCord’s death I have taken charge of all the family business affairs with, if I may confess it, some success. We have lived, and my girls have been educated, and our little reserve against a rainy day has been almost doubled, in addition to giving Gretta a hundred thousand in her own right on the occasion of her marriage. Caroline is to have the same, and when I am done with it there will be a third of the estate for each. In the meantime I am directing my investments as wisely as I can. I want my daughters to be provided for, quite apart from any income marriage may bring them. I should be greatly humiliated to think that any daughter of mine would be dependent upon her husband for support. On the contrary, I mean that they shall bring to their husbands a sum which will be an appreciable contribution toward the family fortune.”
“If I can help you in any way in your financial matters—” Grant suggested.
“Oh, yes, we must get back to that. How I wander! I’m afraid, Mr. Grant, I must be growing old.”
Grant protested gallantly against such conclusion, and Mrs. LeCord, after asking his opinion on certain issues shortly to be floated, arose to leave.
“You must find life in this city somewhat lonely, Mr. Grant,” she murmured as she drew on her gloves. “If ever you find a longing for a quiet hour away from business stress—a little domesticity, if I may say it—our house—”
“You are very kind. Business allows me very few intermissions. Still—”
She extended her hand with her sweetest smile. Caroline shook hands, too, and Grant bowed them out.