The Rosery Folk Part 17

"Mr Saxby!"

"No use for you to be cross ma'am. Fighting against my own interest in the present; but while I have your business to transact, ma'am, I won't see your little fortune frittered away."

"Mr Saxby!" exclaimed Aunt Sophia again.

"I can't help it, ma'am; and of course you are perfectly at liberty to take your business elsewhere. I want to make all I can out of you by commission and brokerage, etcetera; but I never allow a client of mine to go headlong, and run himself, or herself, down a Cornish mine, without trying to skid the wheels."

"You forget that you are addressing ladies, Mr Saxby."

"Beg pardon; yes," said the stockbroker, trying hard to recall what he had said. "Very sorry; but those are my principles, ma'am.--I'm twenty pounds out of pocket, Miss Raleigh," he continued, "by not doing this bit of business of your aunt's."

"And I think it is a very great piece of presumption on your part, Mr Saxby. You need not address my niece, sir; she does not understand these matters at all. Am I to understand then, that you refuse to buy these shares for me?"

"Yes, ma'am, must distinctly. I wouldn't buy 'em for a client on any consideration."

"Very well, sir; that will do," said Aunt Sophia shortly.

"Good-morning."

"But, my dear madam--"

"I said that will do, Mr Saxby," said Aunt Sophia stiffly.

"Good-morning."

Mr Saxby's lips moved, and he seemed to be trying to say something in his own defence, and he also turned towards Naomi, as if seeking for sympathy; but she only cast down her eyes.

"Perhaps Mr Saxby would like to walk round the garden before he goes away," continued Aunt Sophia, looking at a statuette beneath a gla.s.s shade as she spoke. "He will find my nephew and the doctor there.-- Naomi, my dear, come with me."

"Really madam"--began the stockbroker.

"Of course you will charge your expenses for this visit to me, Mr Saxby," said Aunt Sophia coldly; and without another word she swept out of the room.

"Well, if ever I"--Mr Saxby did not finish his sentence as he stood in the hall, but delivered a tremendous blow right into his hat, checking it in time to prevent injury to the glossy fabric; and then, sticking it sideways upon his head, and his hands beneath his coat-tails, he strolled out into the garden.

Ten minutes later, Aunt Sophia returned into the drawing-room, and as she did so, a tall dark figure rose from where it was bending over a book.

"Bless the man! how you made me jump," cried Aunt Sophia.

"I beg your pardon--I'm extremely sorry, Miss Raleigh," said Prayle softly. "I was just looking through that little work."

"Oh!" said Aunt Sophia shortly.

"By the way, Miss Raleigh--I am sure you will excuse me."

"Certainly, Mr Prayle, certainly," said Aunt Sophia, who evidently supposed that the speaker was about to leave the room.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I only wanted to observe that I am engaged a great deal in the City, and--er--it often falls to my lot-- er--to be aware of good opportunities for making investments."

"Indeed," said Aunt Sophia.

"Yes; not always, but at times," continued Prayle. "I thought I would name it to you, as you might perhaps feel disposed to take shares, say, in some object of philanthropic design. I find that these affairs generally pay good dividends, while the shareholders are perfectly safe."

"Thank you, Mr Prayle," said Aunt Sophia shortly. "I don't know that I have any money to invest."

"Exactly so," exclaimed Prayle. "Of course I did not for a moment suppose that for the present you would have; but still I thought I would name the matter to you. There is some difficulty in obtaining shares of this cla.s.s. They are apportioned amongst a very few."

"And do they pay a high percentage?"

"Very, very high. The shareholders have been known to divide as much as twenty per cent, amongst them."

"Indeed, Mr Prayle."

"Yes, madam, indeed," said the young man, as solemnly as if it had been some religious question.

"That settles it then," said Aunt Sophia cheerfully.

"My dear madam?"

"If they pay twenty per cent, the thing is not honest."

"My dear madam, I am speaking of no special undertaking," said Prayle; "only generally."

"Special or general," said Aunt Sophia dogmatically, "any undertaking that pays more than five per cent, is either exceptionally fortunate or exceptionally dishonest. Take my advice, Mr Prayle, and if ever you have any spare cash to invest, put it in consols. The interest is low, but it is sure, and whenever you want your money you can get it in an hour without waiting for settling days. There, as you are so soon going, I will say good-morning and good-bye."

She held out her hand, which was taken with a great show of respect, and then they parted.

"The old girl is cunning," said Arthur Prayle to himself; "but she will bite, and I shall land her yet."

"Ugh! How I do hate that smooth, dark, unpleasant man!" said Aunt Sophia, hurrying up to her bedroom. "He always puts me in mind of a slimy snake."

Moved by this idea, Aunt Sophia carefully washed her hands in two different waters, and even went so far as to smell her right hand afterwards, in happy ignorance of the fact that snakes are not slimy, but have skins that are tolerably dry and clean. So she sniffed in an angry kind of way at the hand she washed, though its scent was only that of old brown Windsor soap, which had for the time being, in her prejudiced mind, become an odour symbolical of deceit and all that was base and bad.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, after another good rub, and another sniff; "that's better now."

An hour later, the doctor, Prayle, and Mr Saxby had taken their leave, the last fully under the impression that he had lost a very excellent client.

"Most pragmatical old lady," he said to the doctor.

"Well, she has all the crotchets of an old maid," said Scales. "Ought to have married thirty or forty years ago. I don't dislike her though."

"Humph! I didn't, yesterday, Doctor Scales," said Saxby; "to-day, I'm afraid I do. How she could ever have had such a niece!"

Prayle looked up quickly.

"Ah, it does seem curious," said the doctor with a dry look of amus.e.m.e.nt on his countenance. "Would it not be more correct to say, one wonders that the young lady could ever have had such an aunt?"

"Eh? Yes! Of course you are right," said Mr Saxby, nodding. "Or, no!

Oh, no! That won't do, you know. Impossible. I was right. Eh? No; I was not. Tut--tut! how confusing these relations.h.i.+ps are."

Mr Saxby discoursed upon stocks right through the journey up; and Mr Prayle either a.s.sumed to, or really did go to sleep, only awakening to take an effusive farewell of his companions at the terminus; while Saxby, to the doctor's discomposure, took his arm, saying, "I'm going your way," and walked by his side, talking of the weather, till, turning suddenly, he said: "I say: fair play's a jewel, doctor. Are we both-- eh?--Miss Naomi?"