When he went to lunch he met Oliver Bird coming out of a Broad Street cafe.
Of course, he had to tell him about his luck with the Gopher Gold Mining shares.
“Glad to hear it, Jack,” said the big broker, patting him on the back. “Nothing succeeds like success, young man. You were successful in pulling five thousand dollars out of the fire when another and more experienced person, had he taken the risks you did with that L. S. stock, would have probably gone up Salt Creek. Had those Gopher certificates been offered to me on the same terms you gobbled them at, I shouldn’t have touched them with a ten-foot pole.”
“They were not so wild-catty, after all,” grinned the lad.
“It seems not. You’re a pretty ’cute boy.”
“It isn’t my fault; I must have been born so,” laughed Jack as the broker gave him another slap on the shoulder and passed on.
“Hello, Mr. Hartz,” to that operator, who came up at that moment. “Seen Percy Chamberlain to-day?”
The broker’s eyes twinkled, and he shook his head.
“He hasn’t dropped in on our Millie for three whole days,” grinned Jack. “Must have struck a new mash somewhere. She has my sympathy. How’s D. & G.?”
“What about it?” asked Hartz, sharply, fixing Jack with his gimlet eyes.