“You are not old enough or strong enough yet. I am looking for some business myself, Joe, but I can’t at all tell what I shall drift into. At home I was a dry-goods merchant. My partner and I disagreed and I sold out to him. I drew ten thousand dollars out of the concern, invested four-fifths of it, and have come out here with the remainder, to see what I can do.”
“Ten thousand dollars! What a rich man you must be!” said Joe.
“In your eyes, my boy. As you get older, you will find that it will not seem so large to you. At any rate, I hope to increase it considerably.”
They were walking on Kearny Street, near California Street, when Joe’s attention was drawn, to a sign:
THIS RESTAURANT FOR SALE
It was a one-story building, of small dimensions, not fashionable, nor elegant in its appointments, but there wasn’t much style in San Francisco at that time.
“Would you like to buy out the restaurant?” asked Morgan.
“I don’t feel like buying anything out with empty pockets,” said Joe.
“Let us go in.”
The proprietor was a man of middle age.