The dead millionaire had begun his fortune by buying and selling cotton‚ÅÝ‚Äîtravelling in the South in reconstruction times, and sending his agents. In this way he made his thousands. Then he took a step forward, and instead of following the prices induced the prices to follow him. Two or three small cotton corners brought him his tens of thousands. About this time Easterly joined him and pointed out a new road‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe buying and selling of stock in various cotton-mills and other industrial enterprises. Grey hesitated, but Easterly pushed him on and he made his hundreds of thousands. Then Easterly proposed buying controlling interests in certain large mills and gradually consolidating them. The plan grew and succeeded, and Grey made his millions.
Then Grey stopped; he had money enough, and he would venture no farther. He “was going to retire and eat peanuts,” he said with a chuckle.
Easterly was disgusted. He, too, had made millions‚ÅÝ‚Äînot as many as Grey, but a few. It was not, however, simply money that he wanted, but power. The lust of financial dominion had gripped his soul, and he had a vision of a vast trust of cotton manufacturing covering the land. He talked this incessantly into Grey, but Grey continued to shake his head; the thing was too big for his imagination. He was bent on retiring, and just as he had set the date a year hence he inadvertently died. On the whole, Mr. ¬ÝEasterly was glad of his partner‚Äôs definite withdrawal, since he left his capital behind him, until he found his vast plans about to be circumvented by Mrs. ¬ÝGrey withdrawing this capital from his control. ‚ÄúTo give to the niggers and Chinamen,‚Äù he snorted to John Taylor, and strode up and down the veranda. John Taylor removed his coat, lighted a black cigar, and elevated his heels. The ladies were in the parlor, where the female Easterlys were prostrating themselves before Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool.