Ezra Robinson stared a little hard when Durkin told him that he had thirteen thousand dollars to throw into “short” cotton that morning, and asked on what margin he would be able to do business.
“Well,” answered the broker, with his curt laugh, “it’s only on the buying side that we’re demanding five dollars a bale this morning!”
He looked at Durkin sharply. “You’re on the wrong side of the market, young man!” he warned him.
“Perhaps,” said Durkin easily. “But I’m superstitious!”
The man of business eyed him almost impatiently.
Durkin laughed good-naturedly.
“I mean I had a sort of Joseph’s dream that cotton was going to break down to sixteen today!”
“Well, you can’t afford to work on dreams. Cotton goes up to nineteen today, and stays there. Candidly, I’d advise you to keep off the bear side—for a month or two, anyway!”
But Durkin was not open to dissuasion.
“When May drops down to sixteen or so I’ll be ready to let the ‘shorts’ start to cover!” he argued mildly, as he placed his money, gave his instructions, and carried away his all-important little slip of paper.