I never understood that he was at all blind,' said Jonas, carelessly.

'You don't consider him so, do you, father ?' 'Certainly not,' replied Anthony.
'What is he, then ?' 'Why, I'll tell you what he is,' said Mr Jonas, apart to the young ladies, 'he's precious old, for one thing; and I an't best pleased with him for that, for I think my father must have caught it of him.

He's a strange old chap, for another,' he added in a louder voice, 'and don't understand any one hardly, but HIM!' He pointed to his honoured parent with the carving-fork, in order that they might know whom he meant.
'How very strange!' cried the sisters.
'Why, you see,' said Mr Jonas, 'he's been addling his old brains with figures and book-keeping all his life; and twenty years ago or so he went and took a fever.

All the time he was out of his head (which was three weeks) he never left off casting up; and he got to so many million at last that I don't believe he's ever been quite right since.

We don't do much business now though, and he an't a bad clerk.' 'A very good one,' said Anthony.
'Well! He an't a dear one at all events,' observed Jonas; 'and he earns his salt, which is enough for our look-out.