"When are you going to make your fortune,
John, and get out of that disagreeable hardware
concern? " demanded Di, pausing after an
exciting "round," and looking almost as much
exhausted as if it had been a veritable pugilistic
encounter.
"I intend to make it by plunging still deeper
into 'that disagreeable hardware concern;' for,
next year, if the world keeps rolling, and
John Lord is alive, he will become a partner, and then
--and then--"
The color sprang up into the young man's
cheek, his eyes looked out with a sudden shine,
and his hand seemed involuntarily to close, as if
he saw and seized some invisible delight.
"What will happen then, John?" asked Nan,
with a wondering glance.
"I'll tell you in a year, Nan, wait till then."
and John's strong hand unclosed, as if the
desired good were not to be his yet.
Di looked at him, with a knitting-needle stuck
into her hair, saying, like a sarcastic unicorn,--
"I really thought you had a soul above pots
and kettles, but I see you haven't; and I beg
your pardon for the injustice I have done you.
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