"What _do_ you mean?"

"Singular, ma'am, not plural, and no percentage."

"Now, look here, Saxby: I have come here on business, if you please, not to hear you discuss points of grammar. What do you mean by your singular and plural?"

"I mean, my dear madam," said Saxby, with a chuckle, "that this Society,"--he flipped the prospectus with his finger as he spoke--"would benefit one fellow-creature only, and give no percentage at all. What is more, you would never see your money back."

"Ho!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Aunt Sophia. "And pray, who would be the fellow-creature?"

"Well, ma'am, it is being rather hard upon a gentleman whom I have had the pleasure of meeting, and who is no doubt acting in the best of faith; but the secretary is the only fellow-creature who will get anything out of that affair. He will of course take care that the office expenses are paid, he is an office expense. There will be nothing for a soul beside."

"Oh, this is prejudice, Mr Saxby."

"Business prejudice, perhaps, ma'am; but, to my mind, this is only one of many Societies that are constantly springing up like toadstools--that kind that comes up fair and white, looks very much like a good mushroom for a time, and then dissolves into a nasty black inky fluid, and is gone."

"It _is_ prejudice," said Aunt Sophia.

"Maybe, ma'am; but there are numbers of silly Societies got up, such as appeal to weak sensitive people; the secretary gets a few letters in the daily papers, and plenty of ladies like yourself subscribe their money, say, for the Suppression of Sunday Labour amongst Cabhorses, the Society for Dieting Dest.i.tute Blackbeetles, and the Provident Home for Canaries whose Patrons are out of Town. These, my dear madam, are exaggerations, but only slight ones, of many Societies got up by ingenious secretaries, who turn a bottle of ink, a ream of neatly headed note-paper, and some cleverly monogrammed envelopes, into a comfortable income."

"That will do," said Aunt Sophia shortly as she took off her _pince-nez_ and allowed the blood to resume its circulation--"that will do, Mr Saxby.--Then you will not buy the shares for me?"

"No, ma'am, not a share. I should deserve to be kicked out of the Stock Exchange, if I did."

"Very well, sir--very well, sir," said the lady, rising and tightening her lips. "That will do."

"And now, as business is over, my dear madam, may I ask for the latest report concerning our friend Scarlett's health?"

"Yes, sir, you may," said Aunt Sophia shortly. "It is very bad. His nerve is completely gone."

"Ah, but I hope it will return," said Saxby. "Patience, ma'am, patience. When stocks in a good thing, mind, I say a good thing, are at their lowest, they take a turn, and become often enough better than ever. And--er--may I ask how--how Miss Raleigh junior is?"

"No, sir; you may not," said Aunt Sophia shortly. "Good-morning!"

"Phe-ew! What an old she-dragon it is!" said Mr Saxby to himself as the door closed upon Aunt Sophia's angular form.

"I am right!" said Aunt Sophia to herself as she got into the hansom cab that she had waiting. "Here!--hi!" she cried, poking at the little trapdoor in the roof with her parasol. "Waterloo Station."

Then, as the cab rattled along: "Arthur Prayle is a smooth-looking, smooth-tongued scoundrel; I know he is, and I've a good mind to let him have a few hundreds, so as to take off his mask. I won't mistrust Saxby any more. He's as honest as the day, and I'm glad I've put him on his guard. But he must be snubbed, very hard, and I must speak to Naomi. I do believe the hard, money-grubbing, fog-breathing creature thinks that he is in love!"

Volume 2, Chapter II.

SIR JAMES SCARLETT'S NERVES.

"Come, old fellow; I think you are better now," said the doctor, as he took Scarlett's arm and walked with him down the garden. They had just been standing upon the lawn, where, in a group, Lady Scarlett, Lady Martlett, Naomi, and Aunt Sophia were with Arthur Prayle. The doctor had been irritated, though he would not own it, by the cool, haughty indifference of Lady Martlett, and it had cost him an effort to tear his thoughts from his own affairs to the troubles of his friend; but upon twice waking up to the fact that Scarlett was growing excited, and that he had displayed a disposition to what the doctor called "break out," he suggested a stroll down the grounds.

Scarlett eagerly agreed; and after a solemn exchange of courtesies with Lady Martlett, the doctor took his friend away.

"Confound her!" muttered the doctor; "the others must have wondered whether I was going to hand her out for a minuet. I wish the woman would keep away."

They strolled about for some few minutes, and twice came to a halt; but the first time, as they seated themselves in a couple of garden-chairs, the voice of Arthur Prayle came in a low deep murmur from the lawn as he was saying something earnestly, and the doctor saw his patient's eyes flash, and then, us he watched him curiously, contract in an unpleasant way.

"Prayle seems to be working very hard for you, old fellow."

"Yes."

"You trust him, I suppose, with all the settlement of your London affairs?"

"Yes: everything."

"Thoroughly trustworthy fellow, of course?"

"Yes, yes, I tell you," cried Scarlett angrily. "He is my cousin."

"Yes, of course," said the doctor, quietly noting every change in his friend the while.

"Come somewhere else," said Scarlett, leaping up in an excited manner.

"I can't bear to sit here."

"All right--all right," said the doctor cheerily. "Let's go down to the waterside."

"No, no!" exclaimed Scarlett, with a shudder. "Come to the rhododendrons."

"By all means. But I say, old fellow, you must fight down this weakness."

"Weakness? What weakness? Is it a weakness to prefer one part of the garden to the other?"

"O no; of course not. Let's go down there."

They strolled down between two great banks of the grand flowering shrubs, now rich with the glossy green of their summer growth, and sat down, when a new trouble a.s.sailed Scarlett, and he sprang up impatiently. "Hah!" he exclaimed. "I can't bear it."

"Why, what's the matter now?"

"Those blue-bottles buzzing about me like that; just as if they expected I should soon be carrion."

"Pooh! What an absurd idea! But you are wrong, old fellow, as usual.

I am the more fleshy subject, and they would be after me. Let's go down yonder under the firs."

"Why? What is there there, that you should choose that part?" said Scarlett, with a quick suspicious glance.

"Fir-trees, shade, seats to sit down," said the doctor quietly.

"Yes, yes, of course; that will do," said Scarlett hastily. "Let's go there."

They strolled along a sun-burned path; and the doctor had just made the remark that commences this chapter, when there was a rustling noise among the shrubs, a whining yelp, and Scarlett's favourite dog, a little white fox-terrier, rushed out at them, to leap up at its master, barking with delight. It came upon them so suddenly, that Scarlett uttered a wild cry, caught at the doctor's arm, screened himself behind his st.u.r.dy body, and stood there trembling like a leaf.

"Why, it's only Fritz!" cried the doctor, smiling.

"He startled me so--so sudden," panted Scarlett. "Drive the brute away."