“Stop, stop!” cried Leonard. “How about the colossal business? How about the saving of that important shanty where you dispensed sardines?”
Uncle Fred looked at his watch.
“But you say that you have saved it—how?”
“I have just time”—again he looked at his watch—“to keep—ah! a most important appointment. I shall go out to Australia next week. On the way out I will amuse myself by writing you an account of the Barlow Brothers—in several chapters—The Conception, The First Box of Sardines, The Shanty, the Realisation, the Millionaire. Novels would not be more thrilling.”
“But you abandon this Colossal undertaking?”
“I give it up. Why? Because an easier way lies open. I should be more than human if I did not take the easier way.”
“You are going out to Mr. Dunning with that letter in your pocket?”
“I am, going, sir, to throw myself into the arms of gratitude. Human Nature! Human Nature! How lovely a thing is Human Nature when it is grateful!”
Leonard grunted.
“I am not sure,” he said, “that I did right in giving you that letter.”