"What made you come to me?" asked Job Stanton in surprise. "I am not a capitalist; I am a poor man."
"Oh, well, you're good for five hundred dollars."
"Yes," answered Job with some complacency; "my place here is worth twice that, let alone the money I've got in the savings bank."
"Of course it is."
"Still, I don't want to run no risk. You'd better go to some moneyed man—like Major Sturgis, for instance."
"Why, the fact is, Uncle Job, it's the major that lets me have the money on my note, but he stipulated that I should have an indorser, and he particularly mentioned you."
"That's cur'us!" said Job. "Why should he think of me?"
"Oh, he knew you were a reliable man."
"How does it happen that you need money?" asked Job, bluntly. "Isn't your business good?"
"That's just it," said Richmond, glibly. "It's so good that I've got to extend my stock, and that takes money. I'm turning money over all the time, and it won't be long before I am able to retire."