True enough, Mr. Windham called, and, after the trivial business-affair was settled, he introduced the subject he was expected to speak on.
"We want men of character and business habits in public station, my young friend, and I was rejoiced to-day to hear that it was proposed to make you a Senator. We have had plenty of politicians,--men who trade in honors and offices."
"I am sensible of the honor you mention," modestly replied Sandford, "and should value highly the compliment of a nomination, particularly coming from men like yourself, who have only the public welfare at heart. But if I were to accept, I don't know how I could discharge my duties. And besides, I am utterly without experience in political life, and should very poorly fulfil the expectations that would be formed of me."
"Don't be too modest, Mr. Sandford. If you have not experience in politics, all the better; for the ways to office have been foul enough latterly. And as to business, we must arrange that. Your duties here you could easily discharge, and we will get some other young man to take your place in the charitable boards;--though we shall be fortunate, if we find any one to make a worthy successor."
After a few words, the stately Mr. Windham bowed himself out, leaving Sandford rubbing his hands with increased, but still gentle hilarity.
Mr. Bullion soon dropped in. He was a stout man, with a round, bald head, short, sturdy legs, and a deep voice,--a weighty voice on 'Change, though, as its owner well knew,--the more, perhaps, because it dealt chiefly in monosyllables.
"How are you, Sandford? Fine day. Anything doing? Money more in demand, they say. Hope all is right; though it looks like a squall."
Mr. Sandford merely bowed, with an occasional "Ah!" or "Indeed!"
"How about politics?" Bullion continued. "Talk of sending you to the Senate. Couldn't do better,--I mean the city couldn't; _you'd_ be a d---d fool to go. Somebody has to, though. You as well as any. Can I help you?"
"You rather surprise me. I had not thought of the honor."
Bullion turned his eye upon him,--a cool, gray eye, overhung by an eyebrow that seemed under perfect muscular control; for the gray wisp of hair grew pointed like a paint-brush, and had a queer motion of intelligence.