“Vance!” and then Bessie broke down.
“Why, what are you crying about?” he said with an abruptness unusual with him.
“Because (sob) you are so (sob) rough with me.”
He looked at her a moment without speaking, and then seemed to realize how he had been acting.
“Forgive me, Bessie, for making you cry; but I’ve thought of a plan by which I hope to save Mr. Whitemore, and perhaps corner the market as he had started out to do. If I put it through—there, I’m so excited over the bare idea you must excuse me saying anything more. Everything depends on my finding Mr. Bradhurst at his hotel to-night, so you see I mustn’t delay a moment. There, I wouldn’t offend you for the world,” he continued, as he led her out of the office and locked the door; and then, as she turned her tear-stained face before him in mute forgiveness, he quite forgot himself and actually kissed her.
“Oh, Vance!” she exclaimed, blushing violently.
It is possible the boy was somewhat astonished at his own audacity, but, if the truth must be told, he was not a bit repentant, and would have repeated the performance if he had dared.
Twenty minutes later Vance was in Bradhurst’s apartments in the Grand Pacific Hotel, talking with a purpose and earnestness which he had never before displayed in his life.
Bradhurst had been looking about him for something in the line of business that would engage his attention, for the mere idea of spending his wealth simply to amuse himself by leading a life of ease was extremely distasteful to him.
He was a man of active habits and a busy brain, and the boy’s plan, which Vance laid down with convincing directness, appealed to his fancy.