But it looks shaky,” I pleaded.
“The best stocks on the street go up and down by turns. Wait till day after to-morrow, at least.”
I did wait, because I did not like to have twenty-five hundred dollars taken out of my pocket at one swoop. Two days after, I was in a fever of anxiety about my Bustumups. They had gone up and down under the influence of various rumors, good and bad, and no one could foresee the end. At noon Tom Flynn went out for his lunch.
“The coppers are in a bad way,” said he, taking his place at the counter on his return.
“What is the matter with them?” I inquired, with my heart in my throat, for my very reputation rested upon the prosperity of the coppers.
“Ballyhacks have dropped down from eighty to fifty,” added Tom.
“What?” I exclaimed.
“That’s what they say. Did you own any?”
“No, no; no Ballyhacks,” I replied, struggling to conceal my emotion.
I had not told Tom I was speculating in coppers, and I think he knew nothing about it, though he might have heard something of the kind.