"What of it, Saxby? Why, wouldn't it be a most admirable thing to invest in a Society which will benefit my fellow-creatures and bring in a large percentage as well?" "Admirable, my dear madam," said Saxby; "but you don't quite express the result." "What _do_ you mean?" "Singular, ma'am, not plural, and no percentage." "Now, look here, Saxby: I have come here on business, if you please, not to hear you discuss points of grammar. What do you mean by your singular and plural?" "I mean, my dear madam," said Saxby, with a chuckle, "that this Society,"--he flipped the prospectus with his finger as he spoke--"would benefit one fellow-creature only, and give no percentage at all. What is more, you would never see your money back." "Ho!" ejaculated Aunt Sophia. "And pray, who would be the fellow-creature?" "Well, ma'am, it is being rather hard upon a gentleman whom I have had the pleasure of meeting, and who is no doubt acting in the best of faith; but the secretary is the only fellow-creature who will get anything out of that affair. He will of course take care that the office expenses are paid, he is an office expense. There will be nothing for a soul beside." "Oh, this is prejudice, Mr Saxby." "Business prejudice, perhaps, ma'am; but, to my mind, this is only one of many Societies that are constantly springing up like toadstools--that kind that comes up fair and white, looks very much like a good mushroom for a time, and then dissolves into a nasty black inky fluid, and is gone." "It _is_ prejudice," said Aunt Sophia. "Maybe, ma'am; but there are numbers of silly Societies got up, such as appeal to weak sensitive people; the secretary gets a few letters in the daily papers, and plenty of ladies like yourself subscribe their money, say, for the Suppression of Sunday Labour amongst Cabhorses, the Society for Dieting Destitute Blackbeetles, and the Provident Home for Canaries whose Patrons are out of Town. These, my dear madam, are exaggerations, but only slight ones, of many Societies got up by ingenious secretaries, who turn a bottle of ink, a ream of neatly headed note-paper, and some cleverly monogrammed envelopes, into a comfortable income." "That will do," said Aunt Sophia shortly as she took off her _pince-nez_ and allowed the blood to resume its circulation--"that will do, Mr Saxby.--Then you will not buy the shares for me?" "No, ma'am, not a share. I should deserve to be kicked out of the Stock Exchange, if I did." "Very well, sir--very well, sir," said the lady, rising and tightening her lips. "That will do." "And now, as business is over, my dear madam, may I ask for the latest report concerning our friend Scarlett's health?" "Yes, sir, you may," said Aunt Sophia shortly. "It is very bad. His nerve is completely gone."