To say truth, the abigail of the defunct Lady Waddilove had been no unprofitable helpmate to our broker.

As ingenious as benevolent, she was the owner of certain rooms of great resort in the neighbourhood of St.James's,--rooms where caps and appointments were made better than anywhere else, and where credit was given and character lost upon terms equally advantageous to the accommodating Mrs.Brown.
Meanwhile her husband, continuing through liking what he had begun through necessity, slackened not his industry in augmenting his fortune; on the contrary, small profits were but a keener incentive to large ones,--as the glutton only sharpened by luncheon his appetite for dinner.

Still was Mr.Brown the very Alcibiades of brokers, the universal genius, suiting every man to his humour.

Business of whatever description, from the purchase of a borough to that of a brooch, was alike the object of Mr.Brown's most zealous pursuit: taverns, where country cousins put up; rustic habitations, where ancient maidens resided; auction or barter; city or hamlet,--all were the same to that enterprising spirit, which made out of every acquaintance--a commission! Sagacious and acute, Mr.Brown perceived the value of eccentricity in covering design, and found by experience that whatever can be laughed at as odd will be gravely considered as harmless.

Several of the broker's peculiarities were, therefore, more artificial than natural; and many were the sly bargains which he smuggled into effect under the comfortable cloak of singularity.