And Mr. Belcher laughed a brutal laugh that rasped Mrs. Dillingham’s sensibilities almost beyond endurance.

“And, now,” said the General, resuming, “this man Balfour means to get these patents that I’ve owned and used for from seven to ten years out of me.  Perhaps he will do it, but it will be after the biggest fight that New York ever saw.”

Mrs. Dillingham eyed the little book.  She was very curious about it.  She was delightfully puzzled to know how these men who had the power of making money managed their affairs.  Account-books were such conundrums to her!

She took a little hassock, placed it by Mr. Belcher’s chair, and sat down, leaning by the weight of a feather against him.  It was the first approach of the kind she had ever made, and the General appreciated it.

“Now you shall show me all about it,” she said.

The General opened the book.  It contained the results, in the briefest space, of his profits from the Benedict inventions.  It showed just how and where all those profits had been invested and re-invested.  Her admiration of the General’s business habits and methods was unbounded.  She asked a thousand silly questions, with one, occasionally, which touched an important point.  She thanked him for the confidence he reposed in her.  She was delighted to know his system, which seemed to her to guard him from the accidents so common to those engaged in great enterprises; and Mr. Belcher drank in her flatteries with supreme satisfaction.  They comforted him.  They were balm to his disappointments.  They soothed his wounded vanity.  They assured him of perfect trust where he most tenderly wanted it.

In the midst of these delightful confidences, they were interrupted.  A servant appeared who told Mr. Belcher that there was a messenger at the door who wished to see him on urgent business.  Mrs. Dillingham took the little book to hold while he went to the door.  After a few minutes, he returned.  It seemed that Phipps, who knew his master’s habits, had directed the messenger to inquire for him at Mrs. Dillingham’s house, and that his brokers were in trouble and desired his immediate presence in Wall street.  The General was very much vexed with the interruption, but declared that he should be obliged to follow the messenger.

“Leave the little book until you come back,” insisted Mrs. Dillingham, sweetly.  “It will amuse me all day.”

She held it to her breast with both hands, as if it were the sweetest treasure that had ever rested there.

“Will you take care of it?”

“Yes.”

He seized her unresisting hand and kissed it.

“Between this time and dinner I shall be back.  Then I must have it again,” he said.

“Certainly.”

Then the General retired, went to his house and found his carriage waiting, and, in less than an hour, was absorbed in raveling the snarled affairs connected with his recent disastrous speculation.  The good nature engendered by his delightful interview with Mrs. Dillingham lasted all day, and helped him like a cordial.