“The money,” answered Tom.
“Very well. I will make out a check, and our cashier will give you the money on it.”
Five minutes later—perhaps in less time—Tom had placed in his hands two hundred and fifty dollars. He had not supposed the business would be transacted so easily. In his eyes two hundred and fifty dollars was an immense sum, and he had some private doubts whether, in spite of Mr. Julian’s letter, they would be willing to pay it to an unknown boy like him. It even occurred to him that it might be inconvenient for the firm to pay out so much money, and they might put him off till another day. But he didn’t know how things were done in Wall Street.
Next to him was a boy of about his own age, who quietly gave an order for the purchase of five hundred shares of some kind of stock, at 89. Tom calculated that this purchase would amount to over forty thousand dollars. Yet the order was taken as a matter of course.
“There must be a good deal of money in New York,” thought Tom, not unnaturally.
As he was going out of the office, a bootblack stepped up to him and said, jocosely:
“Say, young feller, couldn’t you lend me a thousand dollars till to-morrer? I’ve got a big payment to make, and I’m short.”
As the young applicant for a loan was dressed in a ragged costume of unknown antiquity, Tom, of course, understood the joke.
“I’ve got a big payment to make myself,” he answered, “and I can’t spare any money to-day.”
“All right!” said the bootblack, nonchalantly, “I’ll go and see Astor or Vanderbilt. I guess one of ’em will let me have the money.”