That fellow hung on like a bulldog, to the extent of his little pile, but my fighting blood was up, and if I'd been a Vanderbilt I guess I'd have gone a thousand.
I got it, though.
Locking the chest up I left it while I went to the bank and borrowed the money, some fifty-two dollars.
Yes, that was an expensive box.
It seemed so precious that I squandered another dollar and a half hiring a cab to carry it home.
My wife thought I had been to a funeral.
A little later I was of the same opinion myself.
Those stocks and bonds just brought me twenty-two cents for old paper.