The introduction was acknowledged with appropriate remarks. Tom then unfolded a most interesting story. Fred was a Wall Street clerk—and, like many others, dabbled in stocks. He kept on losing. So, desperate, he attempted to court luck at the bucket shop a friend of his had told him of. For a time he won. His hopes rose. Then the inevitable reverses began. The proprietor meanwhile had studied his victim. Fred, without realizing it, became one of his dupes. He loaned money from every one. He began to tamper with his books. Disgrace stared him in the face when he met Tom. A few hours had straightened out all tangles. Tom, however, insisted on bringing the bucket shop keeper to book.
“Well, that’s all to it!” interspersed Tom.
“Hold on,” expostulated Bill, “why did you sneak along the street as if wishing to be unrecognized?”
“Easy,” replied Tom. “Saw dad, across the street, so had to—as you say—sneak.”
“Phew!” whistled Bill, astonished. “I never saw him. One other point, how did you know the revolver was in that desk?”
“It seems,” answered Tom, “that the bucket shop proprietor made it a practice to show new customers that weapon. I suppose it was an effective reminder that all disagreements might be settled rather abruptly.”
“Well,” chimed in Fred, “let us forget about it. I’ll never play the market again. But, boys, I want you to come with me. I have to tell this story to the sweetest girl in town. You’ve got to meet her!”
“If you insist, lead on,” replied Tom. “But suppose you tell her the truth of the matter, and then,—well—I guess Bill and I will be honored, I’m sure!”
Bill laughed outright.
“I never suspected,” he said, “you had so much of the so-called ‘society sass’.”