The good doctor looked so surprised and so woebegone that Shaw laughed.
“Cheer up, Doctor. I tell you what I’ll do; I’ll buy some Erie for you. Yes, sirree; that’s the best thing I can do. What do you say to that?” And he looked at the doctor, triumphantly.
“Ahem!—I am not—are you sure it will prove a—ahem!—a desirable investment? You see, I do not—ah—know much about Wall Street.”
“Neither do I. And the older I grow the less I know.”
The reverend doctor ventured a tentative smile of semi-incredulity.
“That’s right, Doctor. But we’ll make something for you. The blooming, I mean, benighted Bohemians——”
“Ahem!—Bolivians, Brother Shaw.”
“I meant Bolivians. They must have a chance for their souls. John,” to a clerk; “buy 500 shares of Erie at the market.”
“Yes, sir,” said John, disappearing into the telephone booth. To buy, “at the market” meant to buy at the prevailing or market price.
“Brother Shaw, I am extremely grateful to you. This matter is very close to my heart, I assure you. And—ah—will—when will I know if the—ah—investment turns out profitably?”