"I was not cut out for it, and that is all there is to it," he declared. "But I am willing to help you all I can."
Sam had gone off on an errand, leaving his brothers deep in their figures, when the office boy announced a visitor.
"Mr. Mallin Aronson," said Dick, glancing at the visitor's card. "Oh, yes, I've heard of him before. He and father had some stock dealings a year or so ago. Bring him in."
Mr. Aronson proved to be a small, dark-complexioned man, with heavy eyebrows and a heavily-bearded face. He bowed profoundly as he entered.
"Mr. Richard Rover, I believe?" he said, extending his hand.
"Yes, Mr. Aronson. And this is my brother Tom," returned Dick.
"Very glad to know you;" and the visitor bowed again. "I presume you know what brought me here," he went on, with a bland smile.
"I can't say that I do," returned Dick.
"Your father—is he not here?"
"No, he is at home sick."