She laughed. “You don’t know Sam. He means to have it all. He says that he’s arranged to have it all.” “Let us talk about something else. Is your grandmother content to go on living as she does now?” “No. But she has always been so unhappy that a few years more of Sam’s bad temper and selfishness don’t seem to matter. I came here this morning partly to tell you that I’ve arranged it at last. I had it out with Sam yesterday. I told him that he could go on living with mother, and I would take granny--she’s so vexed, you can’t think--that Sam should have gone and made out a bill for her keep and presented to you--that I was able to persuade her. Granny will live with me--I can afford it--and mother will go on with Sam. And I do hope, Mr. Campaigne, that you will come and see her sometimes. She says, have you read the book?” “Yes. I will go to see her sometimes. Tell her so. And as for the book, I have read it all through.” “And did it do you good to read the book? To me it always makes that old gentleman so grand and good--finding lawyers for the poor innocent man and all.” “Tell her the book has produced all the effect she desired and more.” While she was still speaking, Uncle Fred burst in. Mary Anne retired, making way for the visitor, who, she perceived, from the family likeness, was a large and very magnificent specimen of the Campaigne family. He burst in. He came in like an earthquake, making the furniture crack, and the glasses rattle, and the picture-frames shake. He showed the most jovial, happy, benevolent air possible. No one could look happier, more benevolent, and more contented with himself. “Congratulate me, my dear boy!” he cried, offering the most friendly hand in the world. There was a fine and large forgiveness in that extended hand. The last conversation was forgotten and dismissed from memory. “Barlow Brothers is saved!” “Oh! how have you saved it?” “I will tell you how. It has been a most wonderful stroke of luck for Australian enterprise. Nothing short of a national disaster has been averted.” “Indeed! I gathered from your last communication that the business was--well, not worth saving.” “Not worth saving? My dear Leonard! it is colossal--colossal!” Leonard is still mystified, whenever he thinks of it, by this abrupt change of front. What did he mean? “I am immediately going back to Australia to put things on a right footing.” “Oh! You have made a Company in the City after all!” “No,” he replied with decision. “The City has had its chance and has refused its opportunity. I leave the City to lament its own short-sighted refusal. I am sorry for the City. I now return to Australia. The firm of Barlow Brothers may rise conspicuous and colossal, or it may continue to be a purveyor of sardines and blacking, or it may go smash.”