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Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"The Rise of Silas Lapham"


He's behaved very handsomely about it. He says that if it
appears for our common interest, he shall pay me a salary
as well as a commission. I've talked with Uncle Jim,
and he thinks it's a good opening."
"Your Uncle Jim does?" queried Mrs. Corey in amaze.
"Yes; I consulted him the whole way through, and I've
acted on his advice."
This seemed an incomprehensible treachery on her brother's part.
"Yes; I thought you would like to have me. And besides,
I couldn't possibly have gone to any one so well fitted
to advise me."
His mother said nothing. In fact, the mineral paint business,
however painful its interest, was, for the moment,
superseded by a more poignant anxiety. She began to feel
her way cautiously toward this.
"Have you been talking about your business with Mr. Lapham
all night?"
"Well, pretty much," said her son, with a guiltless laugh.
"I went to see him yesterday afternoon, after I had gone
over the whole ground with Uncle Jim, and Mr. Lapham asked
me to go down with him and finish up."
"Down?" repeated Mrs. Corey. "Yes, to Nantasket.
He has a cottage down there."
"At Nantasket?" Mrs. Corey knitted her brows a little.
"What in the world can a cottage at Nantasket be like?"
"Oh, very much like a 'cottage' anywhere. It has the
usual allowance of red roof and veranda.


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