“Come through and pour the dope!” said Jerry, grinning cheerfully.
“Well, I’ve got ’em all right. An old party named Reynolds up at Fort Wayne had twenty shares and his executors wrote me that Copeland ought to have a chance to buy ’em. I’ve worn myself out trying to find your boss. I don’t know who’d buy if he didn’t. The things you hear about your house are a little bit scary: trade falling off; head of the company drinking, gambling, monkeying with outside things, like Kinney cement—”
“Well, well!” Jerry chirruped; “you’re just chuck full of sad tidings.”
“Of course, you know it all; but maybe you don’t know that Corbin & Eichberg are cutting into your business. There will be an involuntary consolidation one of these days and Copeland-Farley will be painted off the sign.”
“You’re the best little booster I’ve heard sing this week! What’ll you take for the stock?”
“Par.”
“Sold! Bring your papers here to-morrow at two and I’ll give you the money.”
Jerry had heard some one say that it was what you can do without money that proves your mettle in business. He had one thousand dollars, that represented the savings of his lifetime. The second thousand necessary to complete the purchase he borrowed of Eaton—who made the advance not without much questioning.
“Very careless on Copeland’s part, but to be expected of a man who takes only a fitful interest in his business. You have about one thousand dollars! All right; I’ll lend you what you need to buy the stock. But keep this to yourself; don’t turn in the old certificate for a new one—not at present. Wait and see what happens. Copeland needs discipline, and he will probably get it. Kinney and Copeland seeing much of each other?”
“Well, they’re off on a business trip together.”