“Who’s Margaret?”

“Mr. Slocum’s daughter.”

“That’s where the wind is!  Now how much capital would it take to do all that?” inquired Mr. Shackford, with an air of affable speculation.

“Three or four thousand dollars,—­perhaps less.”

“Well, I wouldn’t give three or four cents to have you marry Slocum’s daughter.  Richard, you can’t pull any chestnuts out of the fire with my paw.”

Mr. Shackford’s interrogation and his more than usual conciliatory manner had lighted a hope which Richard had not brought with him.  Its sudden extinguishment was in consequence doubly aggravating.

“Slocum’s daughter!” repeated Mr. Shackford.  “I’d as soon you would marry Crazy Nan up at the work-house.”

The association of Crazy Nan with Margaret sent a red flush into Richard’s cheek.  He turned angrily towards the door, and then halted, recollecting the resolve he had made not to lose his temper, come what would.  If the interview was to end there it had better not have taken place.

“I had no expectation that you would assist me pecuniarily,” said Richard, after a moment.  “Let us drop the money question; it shouldn’t have come up between us.  I want you to aid me, not by lending me money, but by giving me your countenance as the head of the family,—­by showing a natural interest in my affairs, and seeming disposed to promote them.”

“By just seeming?”

“That is really all I desire.  If you were to propose to put capital into the concern, Mr. Slocum would refuse it.”

“Slocum would refuse it!  Why in the devil should he refuse it?”

“Because”—­Richard hesitated, finding himself unexpectedly on delicate ground—­“because he would not care to enter into business relations with you, under the circumstances.”

Mr. Shackford removed the straw from his mouth, and holding it between his thumb and forefinger peered steadily through his half-closed eyelids at Richard.

“I don’t understand you.”

“The dispute you had long ago, over the piece of meadow land behind the marble yard.  Mr. Slocum felt that you bore on him rather heavily in that matter, and has not quite forgiven you for forcing him to rebuild the sheds.”

“Bother Slocum and his sheds!  I understand him.  What I don’t understand is you.  I am to offer Slocum three or four thousand dollars to set you up, and he is to decline to take it.  Is that it?”

“That is not it at all,” returned Richard.  “My statement was this:  If you were to propose purchasing a share for me in the works, Mr. Slocum would not entertain the proposition, thinking—­as I don’t think—­that he would mortify you by the refusal of your money.”

“The only way Slocum could mortify me would be by getting hold of it.  But what are you driving at, anyhow?  In one breath you demand several thousand dollars, and in the next breath you tell me that nobody expects it, or wants it, or could be induced to have it on any terms.  Perhaps you will inform me what you are here for?”