The banker nodded. “None better, Purslow,” he answered. “What is it?”
“What I says, then—excuse me—is, if Grounds, why not me? Why not me, sir?”
“I don’t quite——”
“If he’s to be on the Board, he and his mash-tubs——”
“Oh!” The banker looked grave. “You are thinking of the Railroad, Purslow?”
“To be sure! What else?—excuse me, sir! And what I say is, if Grounds, why not me? I’ve been mayor twice and him not even on the Council? And I’m not a pauper, as none knows better than you, Mr. Ovington. If it’s only that I’m a tradesman, why, there ought to be a tradesman on it, and I’ll be bound as many will follow my lead as Grounds’.”
The banker seemed to consider. “Look here, Purslow,” he said, “you are doing very well, not a man in Aldersbury better. Take my advice and stick to the shop.”
“And slave for every penny I make!”
“Slow and sure is a good rule.”
“Oh, damn slow and sure!” cried the draper, forgetting his manners. “No offence, sir, I’m sure. Excuse me. But slow and sure, while Grounds is paid for every time he crosses the street, and doubles his money while he wears out his breeches!”