“Is she the one who likes the scriptures?” I ventured, while watching her reaction. I suspected she had enjoyed my earlier shock.
“Of course not. Twelve would beveryyoung for that. No, the scripture quoting sister is fourteen now.”
That time I gasped aloud, and she laughed. I could not remember the last person to laugh at me good-naturedly, though I could easily remember the last man to laugh at me with a cruel sneer and taunts, since it had been recent.
“Fivesisters. That is… well… unprecedented,” I finally blurted out.
“Strains credulity, does it not.”
“Breaks it in half, more like.”
She sighed resignedly. “Imagine how my mother felt when the fifth daughter was born. I suspect she was never the same.”
I shook my head in wonder. One thing was for certain: if I ever heard of her family I could guess her identity simply by the number of daughters.
“So that makes you second eldest,” I mused, but then shook my head, “Of course, you implied that last year.”
“Not really. With what I told you last year, I could have been third with two elder sisters.”
“I suppose,” I said, still shocked by the whole thing.
“Shall we proceed, sir,” she asked, though very politely, without the fire of the previous year. I missed it, but she was right.
“Good idea. I assumed you and my friend would not wish to meet directly. He is in another room with a book and brandy. If you do not mind waiting, I shall take your list and sketches to him.”
“That is very kind of you, Mr Jones.”
~~~
A half-hour later, I was explaining my friend’s proposition. She was escorted by the same farm boy from the previous year, but he had his head back against the wall, sound asleep.
“My friend says your collection is good but not capital.”
“I expected as much.”
“He offers two choices. He could take them on consignment and split the proceeds with you. That might ultimately get you more money, especially if some of them sell well, but it would be riskier. He also offers to buy the lot for £1,000 which is a figure he thinks fair, since he takes the bulk of the risk.”
She sat and thought about it for a while, and finally asked, “What would you recommend?”
“I do not fully comprehend your situation, so what I would do in the same place may not be the same. I am well enough off to take risks, so I would take the riskier and probably more profitable route. In your case, well, the bird in the hand has a certain amount to recommend it.”
She thought about it a while, and finally asked, “If I consign them, how would I be paid?”
“A banker or attorney would handle the transaction.”
“Which gives more chance for people to find me out.”
“Are you so concerned with your parents discovering your activities?”
“Not per se—I just do not want them to know how much I have, precisely. The money legally belongs to my father the minute I put my hands on it. I would not like it to end up as just a few more books on his shelves.”
The way she said it led me to believe her relationship with her father was ambiguous, but so was mine. It was the way of the world.
I did not want to unduly influence her, so I just waited for her to think about it.
“What about if I take the bird in the hand?”
“Ordinarily, you would still use an attorney or banker, but only once. In either case, he would hand you the banknotespersonally if you want no chance for them to come to your father’s attention.”
