“Going far means a deal of money; setting up again means a deal of money. If we were to open a bank, for instance,” said Lew, with a short laugh--“a respectable profession, and just in our way. That’s probably what we shall do--we shall open a bank; but it wants money, a deal of money--a great deal of money. You would like to see your son a respectable banker, eh? Then, old lady, you must draw your purse-strings.” “I do not think,” said Mrs Ogilvy, “that Robbie would do much as a banker--nor you either, Mr Lew. You would have to be at office-desks every day and all the day. To me it would seem natural, but to you that have used yourselves, alack! to such different things---- And then it is not what you call just money that is wanted. It is capital; and where are you to find it? Oh, my dear laddies, in this you know less, not more, than me. You must get folk to trust in you by degrees when you have showed yourselves trustworthy. But a bank at once, without either character--alack, that I should say it!--or capital. Oh no, my dears, oh, not a bank, not a bank, whatever you do!” “You must trust us, mother--we know what we’re talking about: a bank--which is perhaps not just exactly the kind of thing you are thinking of--is the only thing for Bob and me; but we must have money, money, money,” he said, tapping with his hand upon the table. “Capital,” said Mrs Ogilvy, with a confident air of having suggested something quite different. “It’s the same thing, only more of it; and as that lies with you to furnish, we shall not quarrel about the word.” “There is some mistake,” said Mrs Ogilvy, with dignity. “I have never said, I have never promised. Mr Lew, I found out to-day what was the passage-money of the farthest place you could go to, and I have got the siller here in the house.” The dark figure at the window stirred a little, raising a hand as if in warning: the other listened with a sudden, eager gleam in his eyes, leaning forward. It made his face shine to hear of the money in the house. “Yes,” he said, joyfully, “that’s something like speaking. I love a practical mind. You have got it here in the house?” There came a certain tigerish keenness into his look, as if he might have snatched at her, torn it from her. The shadow against the window stirred a little, but whether in sympathy with the keen desire of the one, or touched by the aspect of the other, it was impossible to tell. Meanwhile Mrs Ogilvy, suspecting nothing, saw nothing to fear.