“Now, ducky, don’t interfere.  You take care of babies nicely.  Let me manage my own affairs.”

“You always treat me like a child that has to be petted with sugar-plums.”

“That’s because you are a child.  What the devil does a woman know about business?”

The “ducky” cried a little, and was quite sure that John would go on and risk what he had, till he lost all.

“Little woman, none of your blubbering!  It annoys me.  Am I to be harassed by business all day, and have no peace when I come home?”

He settled himself to read the papers, once more, and the wife picked up the fretful, puny infant, and retreated to the kitchen, where she could indulge her sorrow without rebuke or interruption.

Presently, Bullion entered, though not unexpected; for he had given Fletcher an intimation, that, in order to have a private interview, he would endeavor to see him at home.

“Nice little box,” said the capitalist, looking around.  “Any babies?”

“One,” said Fletcher.

“Boy or girl?”

“A girl.”

“Bad.  Girls always an expense.  Dress, piano, parties, and d—­d nonsense.  Boys, you put ’em into harness and work ’em till they’re willing to eat their wild oats; he! he!”

The eyebrow flourished over the jocose idea; the stony eye glittered a moment like a revolving light, and then relapsed into darkness.

“However, I have but one, and I think I can make her comfortable.”

“Yes, my boy, quite comfortable.  Let me see, I owe you ten thousand.  How does the new account stand?”

“Here are the figures, taken from Tonsor’s book,” said Fletcher.  “Seventy-nine thousand eight hundred and forty-three.  Ten per cent. to me is seven thousand nine hundred and eighty-four.”

“A big pile of money, Fletcher.”

“Yours, you mean?  Yes, seventy thousand and odd is a big pile.”

“Yours,—­I meant yours.”

“Why, yes,” replied Fletcher, indifferently, “a good fair sum, for a man that hadn’t any before.”

“Don’t you think, now, Fletcher, that the ten thousand pays you for all you’ve done?  Isn’t it enough for a month or two’s work?”

“I think I am paid when I get what was agreed on,” replied Fletcher, stoutly.

The eyebrow was raised with a deprecatory, inquiring look.

“Why, Fletcher, sharp’s the word, is it?”

“That’s what you said, when we started.”

“Suppose I pay you the notes and a thousand or two more, and we call it square?  Then you salt down what you got.”

“And you propose to haul off from operating?”

“Well, no, I can’t say I do.  I may try the bulls another fall or two.  But you haven’t anything else.  If we lose, you are smashed.  I have other property to fall back on.”

“So it’s merely to do me a kindness and make me safe and snug that you propose to keep back the six thousand that belong to me?”