Showing That Tom Had Opened the Oyster
“And now we’ve settled this Newcastle
business, Tom,” said Mr. Deane, that same afternoon,
as they were seated in the private room at the Bank
together, “there’s another matter I want
to talk to you about. Since you’re likely
to have rather a smoky, unpleasant time of it at Newcastle
for the next few weeks, you’ll want a good prospect
of some sort to keep up your spirits.”
Tom waited less nervously than he had done on a former
occasion in this apartment, while his uncle took out
his snuff-box and gratified each nostril with deliberate
impartiality.
“You see, Tom,” said Mr. Deane at last,
throwing himself backward, “the world goes on
at a smarter pace now than it did when I was a young
fellow. Why, sir, forty years ago, when I was
much such a strapping youngster as you, a man expected
to pull between the shafts the best part of his life,
before he got the whip in his hand. The looms
went slowish, and fashions didn’t alter quite
so fast; I’d a best suit that lasted me six
years. Everything was on a lower scale, sir,—in
point of expenditure, I mean. It’s this
steam, you see, that has made the difference; it drives
on every wheel double pace, and the wheel of fortune
along with ’em, as our Mr. Stephen Guest said
at the anniversary dinner (he hits these things off
wonderfully, considering he’s seen nothing of
business). I don’t find fault with the change,
as some people do. Trade, sir, opens a man’s
eyes; and if the population is to get thicker upon
the ground, as it’s doing, the world must use
its wits at inventions of one sort or other. I
know I’ve done my share as an ordinary man of
business. Somebody has said it’s a fine
thing to make two ears of corn grow where only one
grew before; but, sir, it’s a fine thing, too,
to further the exchange of commodities, and bring
the grains of corn to the mouths that are hungry.
And that’s our line of business; and I consider
it as honorable a position as a man can hold, to be
connected with it.”
Tom knew that the affair his uncle had to speak of
was not urgent; Mr. Deane was too shrewd and practical
a man to allow either his reminiscences or his snuff
to impede the progress of trade. Indeed, for
the last month or two, there had been hints thrown
out to Tom which enabled him to guess that he was
going to hear some proposition for his own benefit.
With the beginning of the last speech he had stretched
out his legs, thrust his hands in his pockets, and
prepared himself for some introductory diffuseness,
tending to show that Mr. Deane had succeeded by his
own merit, and that what he had to say to young men
in general was, that if they didn’t succeed too
it was because of their own demerit. He was rather
surprised, then, when his uncle put a direct question
to him.
“Let me see,—it’s going on
for seven years now since you applied to me for a
situation, eh, Tom?”
