“Yes! For Jones tells me that your father was a doctor; that his name was Daniel Reddiman Fitch, and that he once lived in Bington, Ohio.”
“Yes,” said Polly; “that was when he was first married; before old Doctor Royce died, and left an opening in Fieldham, 191 so that Father came back home again.”
“The name of such a stockholder stands on our books, but we haven’t heretofore been able to trace him.”
“That’s why old Jones pumped me so,” Dan remarked, giving his mind first to the more familiar aspects of the case.
“What a pity he never knew!” said Polly, with glistening eyes. “He was always so poor.”
“Your father’s original holdings were five thousand shares, so that you are the possessors of twenty-five hundred shares. If you sell it pretty soon, as I think you may as well do, you will have something over forty thousand dollars to invest; for there is, in addition to the stock, five thousand dollars in back dividends due you.”
Dan and Polly looked at each other almost aghast; but that was only for a moment.
“Why, Dan, you can have a saddle-horse of your own!” cried Polly.
“And we can—O Mr. Clapp, how rude we are!”