help it! Now, sit up in your chair, take this cigar, drink this glass of
whiskey I'm pouring for you, and make up your mind that you're going to
be a man and not a nincompoop--sit still! Don't fly up. I mean what I
say. I've got business to talk to you. And make up your mind that, for
once, you have got to take life seriously."

"What right have you to speak to me like this?" demanded the young man
with an attempt at dignity. Vandewaters laughed loudly.

"Right? Great Scott! The right of a man who thinks a damned sight more of
your reputation than you do yourself, and of your fortune than you would
ever have wits to do. I am the best friend you've got, and not the less
your friend because I feel like breaking your ribs. Now, enough of that.
This is what I have to say, Pride: to-night you and I are beggars. You
understand? Beggars. Out in the cold world, out in the street. Now, what
do you think of that?"

The shock to Mr. Pride was great. Mr. Vandewaters had exaggerated the
disaster; but he had done it with a purpose. The youth gasped "My God!"
and dropped his glass. Vandewaters picked it up, and regarded him a
moment in silence. Then he began to explain their financial position. He
did not explain the one bold stroke which he was playing to redeem their
fortunes: if possible. When he had finished the story, he said, "I guess
that's a bit more serious than the little affair in the library half an
hour ago?"

He rose to his feet. "Look here, Pride, be a man. You've never tried it
yet. Let me teach you how to face the world without a dollar; how to make
a fortune. Then, when you've made it, you'll get what you've never had
yet--the pleasure of spending money dug out of your own wits."