With a gleam of intense satisfaction on his sharp and vulgar features, the officer descended the stairs. CHAPTER XVIII. John Fletcher sat by his fireside, reading the evening papers. The failures of the day, of course, engaged his attention; among them, those of Sandford and his associates were not unexpected. His little wife sat by him, fondling the weakly baby. "Old Sandford has gone by the board, ducky. Good enough for him! He's come to grief, as he deserved. He'll never trouble me any more." "I'm afraid a good many more'll come to grief, as you say, before this panic is over." "Some, of course; the dead trees, and the worm-eaten, powder-posted ones, will fall in the high winds, naturally. But old Bullion is safe. No rotten hollow in his old white-oak trunk;--sound as a ship's mainmast." "Is it Bullion who owes you?" "Yes. I have his notes for ten thousand dollars; and our next settlement, I calculate, will give me as much more." "Why don't you get your pay?" "What should I do with it, my duck? I couldn't lend it to anybody safer. If I deposit, the bank is as likely to fail as he. As long as he has the whole capital to swing, he will make the more for us both." "I would rather have the money." "That shows how little you know about it." "I know, if you had it, and didn't lend it nor speculate with it, you couldn't lose it." "Now, ducky, don't interfere. You take care of babies nicely. Let me manage my own affairs." "You always treat me like a child that has to be petted with sugar-plums." "That's because you are a child. What the devil does a woman know about business?" The "ducky" cried a little, and was quite sure that John would go on and risk what he had, till he lost all. "Little woman, none of your blubbering! It annoys me. Am I to be harassed by business all day, and have no peace when I come home?" He settled himself to read the papers, once more, and the wife picked up the fretful, puny infant, and retreated to the kitchen, where she could indulge her sorrow without rebuke or interruption. Presently, Bullion entered, though not unexpected; for he had given Fletcher an intimation, that, in order to have a private interview, he would endeavor to see him at home. "Nice little box," said the capitalist, looking around. "Any babies?" "One," said Fletcher. "Boy or girl?" "A girl." "Bad. Girls always an expense. Dress, piano, parties, and d--d nonsense. Boys, you put 'em into harness and work 'em till they're willing to _eat_ their wild oats; he! he!" The eyebrow flourished over the jocose idea; the stony eye glittered a moment like a revolving light, and then relapsed into darkness. "However, I have but one, and I think I can make her comfortable." "Yes, my boy, quite comfortable. Let me see, I owe you ten thousand. How does the new account stand?"