The big broker was in and expecting a visit from him.
“It’s better to be born lucky than rich, young man,” he said, genially. “Do you know, if you had allowed yourself to get caught in that deal I should have been tempted to have given you a dressing-down. As it was, you took altogether too many chances. You only escaped by the skin of your teeth. Why, I got rid of my holdings at sixty-nine two days ago, and I was half tempted to sell you out at the same time. Only, you see, that isn’t according to Hoyle.”
“I’m glad you didn’t treat me like a kid—for that is what it would have amounted to if you had used your own judgment against my orders.”
“I’m glad myself, seeing how the thing has turned out. I’ll send you a statement and a certified check to-morrow.”
“Don’t forget to deduct your regular commissions,” said Jack, promptly.
“All right,” replied the broker, who understood the boy thoroughly.
“I wish I was of age,” said Jack, wistfully.
“Why so?”
“Because then I could sign checks and not have to draw my money personally whenever I wanted to use it. It would save me lots of time.”
“I hope you aren’t thinking of making a practice of this sort of thing. If you are, you’ll make a mistake. The best thing that could happen to people who come into Wall Street is to lose their first deal. It might serve to scare them off for good.”