He stammered out his story. Some one had told him that I was in a bad shape; he had also read a piece in the paper about the road, and he had become scared. It had not occurred to him to sell his bonds before he preached that little sermon at me; but, now that my sins were apparently about to overtake me, he wished to save his little property from destruction.
"Why don't you sell?" I asked.
"I have tried to," he admitted, "but the price offered me is very low."
I laughed at the fellow's simple egotism.
"So you thought I might take your bonds off your hands? Got them there?"
"My wife thought, as your—" he stammered. I waived his excuse aside.
He drew the bonds from his coat pocket. As I sat down to write a check I said jokingly:—
"Better hustle round to the bank to-morrow and get your cash."
"I trust you are not seriously incommoded by this panic," he remarked inquiringly.
"Gold's the thing these days!" I laughed.