“It was in South Sea: I bought at 400,” said Jacob.
“At 400? And what is it to-day?”
“Eight hundred and ninety it was this morning,” said Jacob.
“Was this morning? Do you mean it has fallen since?”
“It has indeed, sir. They’ve all been selling like demons; and it’s below eight hundred at this moment.”
“What have you done—eh?”
“Sold out the first thing, sir, at four hundred and ninety per cent, clear profit,” replied Jacob, something of complacency mingling with the anxious deference of his tone.
“Therefore, instead of fifty pounds, you now have three hundred or so?”
“Two hundred, ninety and five, sir,” said the youth modestly.
“Jacob, you are a fool!”