Page:The Atlantic Monthly Volume 2.djvu/839

1858.] Insurance Office. It was only nine o'clock, and the business of the day did not begin until ten. But the morning hour was rarely unoccupied. As he sat in his arm-chair, reading the morning papers, Mr. Monroe entered. He was a clerk in the commission house of Lindsay and Company, in Milk Street,—a man of culture and refined taste, as well as attentive to business affairs. With an active, sanguine temperament, he had the good-humor and frankness that usually belong to less ardent natures. Simple-hearted and straightforward, he was yet as trustful and affectionate as a child. He was unmarried and lived with his mother, her only child.

"Ah, Monroe," said Sandford, with cordiality, "you don't want the picture yet? Let it remain as long as you can, and I'll consider the favor when we settle."

"No,—I'm in no hurry about the picture. I have a matter of business I wish to consult you about. My mother had a small property,—about ten thousand dollars. Up to this time I haven't made it very profitable, and I thought"

Just then a visitor entered. The President of the Society for the Reformation of Criminals came with a call for a public meeting.

"You know, my dear Sir," said the President, "that we don't expect you to pay; we consider the calls made upon your purse; but we want your name and influence."

Mr. Sandford signed the call, and made various inquiries concerning the condition and prospects of the society. The President left with a smile and a profusion of thanks. Before Mr. Sandford was fairly seated another person came in. It was the Secretary of the Society for the Care of Juvenile Offenders.

"We want to have a hearing before the city government," said he, "and we have secured the aid of Mr. Greene Satchel to present the case. Won't you give us your name to the petition, as one of the officers? No expense to you; some wealthy friends will take care of that. We don't desire to tax a man who lives on a salary, and especially one who devotes so much of his time and money to charity."

"Thank you for your consideration," said Mr. Sandford, signing his name in a fair round hand.

Once more the friends were left alone, and Monroe proceeded,—

"I was going on to say that perhaps you might know some chance for a safe investment."

Mr. Sandford appeared thoughtful for a moment.

"Yes,—I think I may find a good opportunity; seven per cent., possibly eight."

"Excellent!" said Monroe.

There was another interruption. A tall, stately person entered the office, wearing a suit of rather antique fashion, apparently verging on sixty years, yet with a clear, smooth skin, and a bright, steady eye. It was the Honorable Charles Wyndham, the representative of an ancient family, and beyond question one of the most eminent men in the city. Mr. Sandford might have been secretly elated at the honor of this visit, but he rose with a tranquil face and calmly bade Mr. Wyndham good morning.

"My young friend," began the great man, "I am happy to see you looking so well this morning. I have not come to put any new burdens on your patient shoulders; we all know your services and your sacrifices. This time we have a little recompense,—if, indeed, acts of beneficence are not their own reward. The Board are to have a social meeting at my house to-night, to make arrangements for the anniversary; and we think a frugal collation will not be amiss for those who have worked for the Society so freely and faithfully."

Mr. Sandford softly rubbed his white hands and bowed with a deprecatory smile.

"I know your modesty," said Mr. Wyndham, "and will spare you further compliment. Your accounts are ready,