“Yes, and a little cracked, too, I should say.”
“It was he. Misfortune, I fear, has disturbed his brain. Now quick, which way did he go?”
“Why just in the direction from which you came, the gangway yonder.”
“Did he? Then the man in the gray coat, whom I just met, said right: he must have gone ashore. How unlucky!”
He stood vexedly twitching at his cap-tassel, which fell over by his whisker, and continued: “Well, I am very sorry. In fact, I had something for him here.”—Then drawing nearer, “you see, he applied to me for relief, no, I do him injustice, not that, but he began to intimate, you understand. Well, being very busy just then, I declined; quite rudely, too, in a cold, morose, unfeeling way, I fear. At all events, not three minutes afterwards I felt self-reproach, with a kind of prompting, very peremptory, to deliver over into that unfortunate man’s hands a ten-dollar bill. You smile. Yes, it may be superstition, but I can’t help it; I have my weak side, thank God. Then again,” he rapidly went on, “we have been so very prosperous lately in our affairs—by we, I mean the Black Rapids Coal Company—that, really, out of my abundance, associative and individual, it is but fair that a charitable investment or two should be made, don’t you think so?”
“Sir,” said the collegian without the least embarrassment, “do I understand that you are officially connected with the Black Rapids Coal Company?”
“Yes, I happen to be president and transfer-agent.”
“You are?”
“Yes, but what is it to you? You don’t want to invest?”
“Why, do you sell the stock?”