I was so anxious to resume trading that I didn’t lose a minute, but went to old man Fullerton and said to him, “Say, A. R., lend me five hundred dollars.”
“What for?” says he.
“I’ve got to have some money.”
“What for?” he says again.
“For margin, of course,” I said.
“Five hundred dollars?” he said, and frowned. “You know they’d expect you to keep up a 10 per cent margin, and that means one thousand dollars on one hundred shares. Much better to give you a credit——”
“No,” I said, “I don’t want a credit here. I already owe the firm something. What I want is for you to lend me five hundred dollars so I can go out and get a roll and come back.”
“How are you going to do it?” asked old A. R.
“I’ll go and trade in a bucket shop,” I told him.
“Trade here,” he said.