“I’ve had so little,” she said with a saddened smile, “that it would be most welcome, I assure you. How much are the shares?” she asked timidly. “I know so little about such matters.”
“Preferred?” he questioned briskly, elevating his eyebrows. “They pay you considerable more, you know, than the common stock.”
“I’d like the best;” said she, “that is, if I can afford it.”
“That’s right,” said he. “It always pays to git the best. The best always pays in the end. There wa’n’t never yit a couple of cheap things worth one good one. I’d like to see yer git the best—somethin’ you’d be proud of ownin’, like our gilt-edged preferred.” He rammed his long hands in his trousers pockets, and for some seconds paced slowly before her, lost in thought. “Let’s see—let’s see,” he muttered.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said suddenly. “Let us say fifteen hundred shares preferred. I’ll waive what they’re worth to-day. I’ll let you have ’em at par, my friend, at ten dollars a share, cash. That’ll make it an even fifteen thousand dollars. You deserve it, Miss Moulton, if ever any woman did,” he cried magnanimously. “I’d give a good deal to see old Hiram Sudwell in your shoes right now.”
“But fifteen thousand dollars,” gasped the little spinster, “is half of all we’ve got in the world, Mr. Ford!”
“I see,” said he gravely.
She started to speak, but he waved his hand.
“Hold on,” he resumed cheerfully, “We’ll do better than that,” and again he paced before her. “I’m the last man in the world to ask anybody to put all their eggs in the same basket. Suppose we say half that amount?” He saw her hesitate, nervously fingering the long, thin gold chain that circled her neck, and which all her life had served her as guardian of her mother’s watch.
“I say half,” said he, breaking the silence. “Why, you’ll think nothin’ of buyin’ the rest of that fifteen hundred with what you’ll make on that half.”