fellow-merchant.

Three days later, Mr. Jones is at his desk, buried in calculations
of profit and loss, and so much absorbed is he, that he has not
noticed the entrance of Perkins the broker, through whom he obtained
the stock from Mrs. Lloyd.

"How much of the Riverland Railroad stock have you?" inquired the
broker, and in a voice that sent a sudden fear to the heart of the
merchant.

"A hundred shares. Why do you ask?" was the quick response.

"I'm sorry for you, then. The interest due this day is not
forthcoming."

"What!" Mr. Jones starts from his desk, his lips pale and quivering.

"There's something wrong in the affairs of the company, it is
whispered. At any rate, the interest won't be paid, and the stock
has tumbled down to thirty-five dollars. If you'll take my advice
you'll sell. The first loss is usually the best in these cases--that
is my experience."

It is very plain that one operation hasn't paid, for all its golden
promise--an operation that would hardly have been effected by Mr.
Jones, had he accompanied Mr. Smith on the proposed visit to Mrs.
Lloyd. The fifty shares of stock, which came, as he thought, so
luckily into his hand, would, in all probability, have become the
property of another.