"I hope he don't need the money for nothing particular," Uncle Mosha commented; "on account he stands a good show to be disappointed. Hurry up with the paper."
Ten minutes afterward the boy returned. He handed an evening paper to Uncle Mosha, who hastily planted a pair of pince-nez on his broad, flat nose and folded back the financial page.
"Now let's give a look," he murmured to himself as he glanced hastily at the column marked "The Stock Market."
At the head of the list appeared the following item:
| Sales | Highest | Lowest | Closing | Net Ch'g |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 45100 Amal. Ref. | 46-5/8 | 38-1/2 | 38-1/8 | —4-1/8 |
"Wiped again!" he muttered as he dropped the paper to the floor.
Half an hour later, when Alex and Max Gershon came out of the adjoining room with the copartnership agreement duly executed, they found Uncle Mosha calmly smoking the last of his cigar while he pondered over the "News for Investors" column. The tabulated list of quotations was not unnoticed by Max as he felt for another cigar to present to the old man.
"Do you ever speculate in Wall Street, Mr. Kronberg?" he asked.
"Oncet upon a time I used to," Uncle Mosha replied, "but never no more, Maxie. It's a game which you couldn't beat—take it from me, Maxie—not if you was a hundred times so smart as Old Man Baum."