They took champagne, for the second time that day, and then their eyes began to glisten.
Mr. Beck observed that they were both alike—small and fragile-looking men, with bright eyes and delicate features; he made a mental note to the effect that they would never advance their own fortunes. He also concluded from their red noses, and from the way in which they straightened their backs after placing themselves outside the champagne, that they loved the goblet, and habitually handled it too often.
"Now, gentlemen," he began, after making these observations, "may I be allowed to talk business?"
They both bowed.
"Genius, gentlemen, is apt to be careless of the main chance. It don't care for the almighty dollar; it lets fellows like me heap up the stamps. What can we do but ask Genius to dig into our Pile?"
Humphrey poured out another glass of champagne for his brother, and one for himself. Then he turned to Cornelius and nodded gravely.
"Cornelius, so far as I understand him, Mr. Beck speaks the strongest common sense."
"We agree with you so far, Mr. Beck," said Cornelius critically, because he was there to give moral support to his brother.
"Why should I have any delicacy in saying to a young man, or a man of any age," he added doubtfully, for the years of the Twins seemed uncertain, "'You, sir, are an Artist and a Genius. Take a cheque, and carry out your ideas.'?"
"What reason indeed?" asked Cornelius. "The offer does honour to both."