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"Barlywig is in Parliament," he said to himself, over and over again, in loud tones, striving to answer the spirit of his dream. "In Parliament! He sits upon committees; men jostle to speak to him; and he talks loud among the big ones of the earth. He spends forty thousand a year in his advertisements, and grows incredibly rich by the expenditure. Men and women flock in crowds to his shop.
First he took from his pocket a short list which he always carried, and once more read over the names and figures which it bore. Barlywig, £40,000 per annum. How did Barlywig begin such an outlay as that? He knew that Barlywig had, as a boy, walked up to town with twopence in his pocket, and in his early days, had swept out the shop of a shoemaker. The giants of trade all have done that.
In reply to this, old Brown merely shook his head. "Do you know what Barlywig has spent on his physic; Barlywig's Medean Potion? Forty thousand a-year for the last ten years, and now Barlywig is worth; I don't know what Barlywig is worth; but I know he is in Parliament." "We haven't stuff to go on like that, George."
He lives at Albert Gate in a house big enough for a royal duke, and is the lord of ten thousand acres in Yorkshire. Barlywig cannot have been wrong, let that philosopher philosophize as he will!" But still the dream was there, crushing him like a nightmare. "Why don't you produce something, so as to make the world richer?" Poppins had said.
"As to my principles, that system of commerce which I have advocated, as to that, I am still without a doubt. I am certain of the correctness of my views. Look at Barlywig and his colossal fortune, and 40,000l. a year spent in advertising." "But then you should have your 40,000l. a year." "By no means! But the subject is a long one, Mr. Brown, and cannot now be discussed with advantage.
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