He slit the envelope carefully with the blade of his jack knife. More than one man had torn or otherwise mutilated a check by opening an envelope too carelessly.
But instead of the printed form and generous draft which was the usual monthly inclosure of the firm, all the envelope contained was a typewritten letter, which the old farmer read with something like horror:
Office of
Bensell, Bensell & Marsden,
513 Wall St., New York,
April 2, 1892.
Mr. Arab Tarr,
Chopmist, Rhode Island.
Dear Sir:
We beg to announce that owing to several accidents, causing a large loss of rolling stock of the road, the B. P. & Q. has dropped several points on the market and has passed its monthly dividend.
We would suggest that you hold on to your stock, however, as this is a matter which will quickly adjust itself.
Yours sincerely,
Bensell, Bensell & Marsden.
The letter fluttered to the floor from Uncle Arad’s nerveless fingers. To lose money was like losing his very life, and this was no inconsiderable sum that had gone. He had invested a large amount in B. P. & Q. stock, and up to the present time it had paid large interest.
“Them brokers air thieves! I know they be,” cried the old man, breaking forth into vituperations against the innocent firm of Bensell, Bensell & Marsden. “Ye can’t trust ’em—not an inch! I don’t b’lieve none o’ their lyin’ stories erbout the railroad’s passin’ its div’dend. I—I’ll go ter New York m’self, I declare I will!”