"Merely an error in judgment," murmured Mr. Darby. "Any business man, with large schemes on hand, is liable to make them."
"Well, while the metal didn't have any platinum in it, it had a peculiar quality of steel. It is very valuable, and I—that is we"—turning toward his father—"have just sold it to a large firm that wants it to make some very fine springs with."
"Yes, the deal is just completed," broke in Mr. Darby. "My judgment in that old metal is confirmed. I have accepted an offer of two thousand dollars for it. Under the terms of the incorporation papers one-half of that goes to Dick. I now take pleasure in handing you my check for that amount, as president of The International and Consolidated Old Metal Corporation," and with a grand air "Hank" handed Dick a slip of paper.
"Is this mine?" asked the millionaire's son, in some bewilderment.
"It is," replied Mr. Darby. "It is part of the return from your investment of two hundred and fifty dollars which you put into the firm of which I am president, you treasurer, and my son secretary and general manager."
"That is, I collect the old iron and sell it," explained Henry, seeing that Mr. Larabee looked puzzled. "Dick was kind enough to invest some money with our company last year, and I am glad I can make a return for him—or, rather, dad can, for he bought the metal that turned out so valuable."
"Then—then—" began Dick, a light slowly breaking over him, "without intending it, I have made a good, paying investment. A thousand dollars for two hundred and fifty is good, isn't it, dad?"
"Fine, I would say," cried Mr. Hamilton, with a smile.
"And this is my birthday! The year is just up!" went on Dick. "I—I won't have to go and live with Uncle——"
He stopped in some confusion.