Colton laughed and ducked his head.  Ah, the listless wit of the rich!  It may be pointless, but how laughable is the millionaire’s joke.

“But, my dear young man, we are determined to have you with us,” Colton declared, when he had recovered himself.  He nodded at Witherspoon.

“We are going to try,” the great merchant replied.  “By the way, I told Brooks that we’d have to press Bradley & Adams, of Atchison, Kansas.  They are altogether too slow—­there’s no excuse for it.”

“None in the world; none whatever,” Colton agreed.  He more than agreed, for there was alarm in his voice, and the alarm of an old miser is pitiable.  “Gracious alive, can they expect people to wait always?  Dear, what can the world be coming to when we are all to be cheated out of our rights?  We’ll have the law on them.”

Money professes great love for the law, and not without cause.  The rich man thinks that the law is his; and the poor man says, “It was not made for me.”

Among the ladies Henry was the subject of a subdued discussion, and occasionally he heard Mrs. Colton say:  “Such a comfort to you, and after so many years of separation.  So manly.”  And then Mrs. Brooks would say:  “Yes, indeed.”

Henry noticed that Colton was not accompanied with his mutton-broth economy.  It was evident that the old man was frugal only to his own advantage, and that his heartiness came at the expense of other men.

Brooks arrived soon after dinner.  The women went to the drawing-room to talk about Henry, and to exchange harmless hypocrisies, and the men betook themselves to the library to smoke and to discuss plots that are known as enterprises.  Country merchants were taken up, turned over, examined and put down ruined.  Brooks was as keen and as ardent as a prosecuting attorney.  Every man who owed a bill was under indictment.

“You see,” he said to Henry, “we have to hold these fellows tight or they would get loose and smash us.”

“You needn’t apologize to me,” Henry replied.

“Of course not, but as you say that you don’t understand business, I merely wanted to show you to what extent we are driven.”

“Oh, I assure you that it is awfully unpleasant,” said Colton, “but we have to do it.  And let me tell you, my dear young man, there is more crime than you imagine in the neglect of these fellows.  In this blessed country there is hardly any excuse for a man’s failure to meet his obligations.  The trouble is that people who can’t afford it live too high.  Let them economize; let them be sensible.  Why, I could have gone broke forty-odd years ago; hah, I could go broke now.  Oh, I know that we are all accused of being hard, but you have no idea what the wealthy people of this city do for the poor.  Just look at the charity balls; look at our annual showing, and you’ll find it remarkable.”

Henry felt that the charity of the rich was largely a species of “bluff” that they make at one another.  It was not real charity; it was an advertisement—­it was business.