“Yes. He—er—told me he would make the stock market contribute to the fund.”
“Indeed!” Cranston showed a lively interest.
“Yes. I suppose since you are in the same business, there is no harm in telling you that he bought some stock for me. Five hundred shares, it was. Do you think, Brother Cranston, that that—er—that will mean much? You see, I have the fund very close to my heart; that is why I ask.”
“It depends,” said Cranston, very carelessly, “upon what stock he bought for you.”
“It was Erie Railroad stock.”
“Of course, Dr. Ramsdell, your profits will depend upon the price you paid.” This also in a tone of utter indifference.
“It was Brother Shaw who paid. The price was 65⅛.”
“Aha!” said Cranston. “So the Old Man is bullish on Erie, is he?”
“I do not know what you mean, but I know he told me I should read the paper every day and see how much above 65⅛ the price went; and that I would surely hear from him.”
“I sincerely hope you will, Doctor. Let me see, will $100 do? Very well, I’ll make out a check for you. Here it is. And now, Doctor, will you excuse me? We are very busy, indeed. Good-morning, Dr. Ramsdell. Call again any time you happen to be down this way.” And he almost pushed the good man out of the office in his eagerness to be rid of him.