Rufus was favorably impressed on first entering. The room was small, but it was very neat. It had a good window opening to the street, and it appeared well filled with stock. A hasty survey satisfied our hero that the stock was really worth more than the amount asked for it.
The proprietor seemed a sickly-looking man, and the plea of ill-health, judging from his appearance, might readily be credited.
"This is the capitalist I spoke of this morning," said George Black, introducing Rufus.
"He seems young,", said the proprietor, a little surprised.
"I'm not very aged yet," said Rufus, smiling.
"The main thing is, that he's got the money," said Black. "He's in business in Wall Street, and is looking about for an investment of his spare funds."
Rufus was rather pleased with this way of stating his position. He saw that it heightened his importance considerably in the mind of the owner of the shop.
"He'll do well to invest here," said the latter. "It's a good stand. I wouldn't sell out if my health would let me hold on. But confinement doesn't suit me. The doctor says I shan't live a year, if I stay here, and life is better than money."
"That's so."
"How long has this shop been established?" asked Rufus.