"Veins of tin, eh?" said the doctor. "Perhaps of copper too," said Geoffrey. "If you have a hundred or two to spare--" "I've got four or five hundred of my wife's money, but not to spare," said the doctor. "Brings us in three and a half per cent." "I wouldn't promise," said Geoffrey, enthusiastically; "but I sha'n't be satisfied if I don't make that mine return its company thirty, forty, perhaps fifty, per cent." "Dr Rumsey," said the lady, whose nose had been travelling in quite a circle round the centre of her face, "it is your duty to invest that money in this mine." "But it isn't a regular company, is it?" "No," said Geoffrey, "but it is in my power to get a little interest in the affair for a friend." "If I could feel sure," said the doctor, dubiously. "I would not advise you against your good," said Geoffrey, earnestly. "I am certain the mine will pay." "Thirty, forty, or fifty per cent?" "No," said Geoffrey. "I only hope that; but I'll warrant six or seven, perhaps fourteen." "It would about ruin us," said the doctor, "if it was like most mines--a failure." "My dear, I'm ashamed of you," cried Mrs Rumsey. "You always would fight against every chance of advancement. It is my money, and I say it shall be invested. There?" The way in which Mrs Rumsey's nose twitched at this juncture was something surprising, and made Geoffrey quite uncomfortable. "Well," he said, rising, "I must go. Mrs Rumsey, thank you for a charming breakfast. Rumsey, you think over that, and, look here, if you do think of it seriously, come up to me--soon." "He shall, Mr Trethick," said the lady, decidedly. "I will--think over it," said the doctor. "But, look here, if I do play and lose the rubber, don't you come to me when you are ill, or I'll give you such a dosing." "My papa keeps it in a bottle," said Bobby, in a whisper. "Does he? Well, we'll hope the stopper is never removed on my behalf," said Geoffrey. "But, look here," he cried, as he remembered something. "I've got two paper bags in my pocket;" and he dragged out the effects of his two last visits to Mrs Prawle, leaving the children in a high state of delight, and Mrs Rumsey telling her husband that if he had had the energy of Geoffrey Trethick he would be keeping his brougham, and she sitting in silk and satin, instead of having to wash up the breakfast things, while their one servant made the beds. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. GEOFFREY MAKES LOVE. A long morning in the mine, now thoroughly cleared of water, and where, under the leadership of Dicky Pengelly, the picks were ringing merrily. Geoffrey had little good news to report, for the lode of tin was excessively poor; but all the same he felt that he could work on at a profit, and at any time they might strike a good rich vein. There was nothing, then, to mind. He had reported every thing to Mr Penwynn exactly as it occurred, and that gentleman seemed not only perfectly satisfied, but encouraged him to go on.