"All right. We can't call it fleece at all. Mr. Allison, one-half is yours. Shake, old man."
Allison jumped as though he had been shot.
"Do you mean that, Bob?" he asked.
"Of course I do."
"And you–is it all right?" he asked of Fred.
"Of course it is. You saved us $10,000, didn't you?"
"Well, that was my duty. I've been thirty-three years in Wall Street and never had so much consideration shown me before," and his eyes became moist and his voice husky.
"I say, boys!" called out another broker, "let's all go and dine together and have a bottle for each plate. I like these two boys and think we can learn something from them. Come on, every one of you."
They all laughed, shook hands with Bob, Fred and Allison and went downstairs and farther down the street to a well-known restaurant. There they had a royal feast for an hour. Dean became quite merry over his bottle and admitted that he knew Allison was one of the best posted men in the street, and was glad that he was to have one-half the amount he had lost. At that dinner the brokers became acquainted with Halsey & Company, and found that, though they were boys, they knew a good deal about taking care of Number One.