On this particular afternoon the vicar hinted that he had something of special importance to communicate, and Aunt Charlotte was unusually gracious.

He was a short gentleman, with a sloping forehead, a prominent nose, a clean-shaven, High-Church face, narrow, dogmatic views, and small, twinkling eyes; not the sort of person whom one would naturally associate with financial acumen, but endowed with an air of self-confidence, and a pretension to private information, which would have done credit to any stockbroker on 'Change.
"I've been thinking over that little matter of yours that you mentioned to me the other day," he began, when he had finished his third cup, and Austin had strolled away.

"You say your mortgage at Southport has just been paid off, and you want a new investment for your money.

Well, I think I know the very thing to suit you." "Do you really?
How kind of you!" exclaimed Aunt Charlotte.

"What is it--shares or bonds ?" "Shares," replied Mr Sheepshanks; "shares.