"I was sorry, my dear Lydia, to be late," said Mr. Rives, in his soft voice; "I was detained by waiting for the mail."
Miss Lydia said, brightly, that it didn't matter.
"But it was worth waiting for," William assured her. "I have done a good piece of business. (Not that it will make me richer; I have so many obligations to meet!) But it was a fortunate stroke."
"A female in a distant city, where I own a poor little bit of real estate--nothing of any value, Lydia; I am a poor man--"
"That's no difference," she told him, softly.
"--this female, a widow, and foolish (as widows always are)," William said, with a little giggle, "asked me to sell her a house I owned. She wished, for some reason, to purchase in that locality. I named the market price. I did so, by letter, a fortnight ago. I believe she thought it high; but that was her affair. She would have to sell certain securities to purchase it, she said. But as I wrote her--'my dear madam, that's your business.'" Mr. Rives laughed a little. Miss Lydia looked up, smiling and interested. "Yes," said Mr. Rives--"I didn't urge it. I never urge, because then I can't be blamed if things go wrong. But I held my price. That is always good policy--not to drop a dollar on price. So she's bought it. She made a payment yesterday to bind the sale. Not that I feel any richer, for I must immediately apply the money to the purchase of other things."
"I guess it is," William agreed; "I happen to know that a boiler factory is to be erected on the rear lot."
"But will she like that--the poor widow?" Miss Lydia said.
Mr. Rives laughed comfortably. "Ah, Lydy, my dear, in business we do not ask such questions before making a sale. _I_ like it. In three months that bit of property will have shrunk to an eighth of its selling price to-day." Mr. Rives's eyes twinkled with satisfaction.
"But--_William!_" said Miss Lydia. Suddenly she grew pale. "William," she said, "it seems to me you ought to have told the poor widow."
"Lydia, a lady cannot understand business," William said, with kindly condescension, but with a slight impatience. "Don't you see, if I had told her, she would not have made the purchase?"
Miss Lydia was silent, stroking the gathers of her cambric with a shaking needle. Then she said, in a low voice, "I suppose she wouldn't."