CHAPTER XXXVII. A BAD DAY FOR MR. MCCRACKEN.
Cornelius McCracken sat in his office in a complacent mood. He had just closed a successful speculation in Wall Street, by which he had cleared a few hundred dollars. He was not a rich man for the city, and this was of some consequence to him.
Then his mind could not help reverting to Bernard and the accident which had removed him from his path and averted all danger of restitution of the boy’s fortune. Truly all seemed favorable.
He heard a slight noise at the door, and lifting his eyes recognized with a scowl his old ally and confederate, Professor Puffer.
“What do you want here?” he demanded roughly. “I have no time for such as you.”
Professor Puffer entered the room, nevertheless, and sank into a chair.
“Mr. McCracken,” he said, “I am very unfortunate. I am reduced to the position of a sandwich man. I who have occupied the position of a gentleman.”
“What is that to me? It is an honest way of earning your living. You are lucky to find work at all.”
“I have given it up. I can’t stand it. Besides, I met yesterday afternoon a person whom I had known in happier and more prosperous days. I felt as if I should sink through the sidewalk.”
“I see—you are poor and proud,” sneered McCracken. “It is out of place in a man like you.”