The
money thus invested had remained, for the last nine years, wholly
unproductive. Mr. Woodstock explained that things were looking up
with the company in question, who had just declared a dividend of 4
per cent. on all their paid-up shares.
"In other words," exclaimed Waymark eagerly, "they owe me some
money?"
"Which you can do with, eh?" said Abraham, with a twinkle of
good-humoured commiseration in his eye.
"Perfectly. What are the details?"
"There are fifty ten-pound shares. Dividend accordingly twenty
pounds."
"By Jingo! How is it to be got at?"
"Do you feel disposed to sell the shares?" asked the old man,
looking up sideways, and still smiling.
"No; on the whole I think not."
"Ho, ho, Osmond, where have you learnt prudence, eh?--Why don't
you sit down?--If you didn't come about the mines, why did you
come, eh?"
"Not to mince matters," said Waymark, taking a chair, and speaking
in an off-hand way which cost him much effort, "I came to ask you to
help me to some way of getting a living."
"Hollo!" exclaimed the old man, chuckling. "Why, I should have
thought you'd made your fortune by this time. Poetry doesn't pay, it
seems?"
"It doesn't.
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