“Your boss doesn’t sit on his job much,” Foreman remarked. “I’m getting tired chasing him.”
“He’s off motoring with Kinney—they’re looking for a place to start another cement mill. Why don’t you call for me when you honor the house?”
“Oh, my business with Copeland is too trifling to trouble you about,” the broker remarked ironically. “You haven’t any money, have you?”
Jerry bent his ear to catch the jingle of coin inside the cages.
“Oh, if you want to borrow, Copeland-Farley ain’t a pawnshop.”
“I guess C-F doesn’t lend much; it’s the biggest borrower on the street,” said Foreman.
“Every big jobber is a heavy borrower. It’s a part of the game,” Jerry replied. Foreman’s anxiety to find Copeland had piqued his curiosity. “Of course, if your business with the boss can wait—”
“It’s a trifling matter, that will probably annoy him when I mention it. I’ve got twenty shares of Copeland-Farley for sale. I thought he might want to pick ’em up.”
“Must be a mistake,” replied Jerry indifferently; “there’s never any of our stock for sale.”
“No; I suppose you’ve got most of it yourself downstairs in the safety vault!”