Roebuck continued to fold the paper upon itself until he had reduced it
to a short, thick strip. This he slowly twisted between his cruel fingers
until it was in two pieces. He dropped them, one at a time, into the
waste-basket, then smiled benevolently at me. "You are right," he said.
"You shall have what you want. You have seemed such a mere boy to me that,
in spite of your giving again and again proof of what you are, I have been
putting you off. Then, too--" He halted, and his look was that of one
surveying delicate ground.

"The bucket-shop?" suggested I.

"Exactly," said he gratefully. "Your brokerage business has been invaluable
to us. But--well, I needn't tell you how people--the men of standing--look
on that sort of thing."

"I never have paid any attention to pompous pretenses," said I, "and I
never shall. My brokerage business must go on, and my daily letters to
investors. By advertising I rose; by advertising I am a power that even you
recognize; by advertising alone can I keep that power."

"You forget that in the new circumstances, you won't need that sort of
power. Adapt yourself to your new surroundings. Overalls for the trench; a
business suit for the office."

"I shall keep to my overalls for the present," said I. "They're more
comfortable, and"--here I smiled significantly at him--"if I shed them, I
might have to go naked. The first principle of business is never to give up
what you have until your grip is tight on something better."