“Yes, that is the way of it,” replied Herbert. “The broker makes the money and the speculator loses it, usually.”
“Don’t brokers never lose nothin’, Herbert?” asked Tom.
“No, not unless they trust some one who fails to pay them.”
“Well, I thought you would get sick er spekerlatin’, Bob, and I’m glad you’ve done it before you’re broke,” said Tom Flannery. “I don’t want no spekerlatin’ for me.”
“No, but you’d like a go at horse racin’ all the same, Tom Flannery,” said Bob.
“No, I wouldn’t nuther, Bob, fer you talked me out er bettin’ and into spekerlatin’, and now Herbert here has jest upset the spekerlatin’ idea, so I’m out of it all, Bob.”
“Good,” said Herbert; “I am glad you have come to so wise a decision.”
“So am I,” said Bob, heartily.
“So am I,” echoed Tom, with equal fervor.
“But now,” said Bob, “what are we goin’ to do with our money? It ain’t earnin’ us nothin’, you see.”