"I bought at two and seven-
eighths, with money that should go to pay notes due on Saturday. The
stock was worth two and an eighth last night and very likely by to-
night won't be worth anything."
"Then why didn't you sell yesterday?" Edith asked.
Arthur smiled at the feminine turn of her words.
"Because, my shrewd financier, I don't want to sell at a loss, and Mr.
Irons assures me that there will be a rise before the final collapse."
He did not add, as he might have done, the substance of the talk
between himself and Irons. That wily financier had said to him one
day,--
"Fenton, you were almighty toploftical about those railroad shares, and
I'll give you another chance. I've had four thousand shares of
Princeton Platinum turned over to me on an assignment. It cost me two,
and you may have it at that figure, though it's worth two and a half in
the market to-day."
"You are too generous, by half," Fenton had answered.
"Well, the fact is," Irons had responded, "I hate infernally to be
under obligations. Princeton Platinum is wild-cat fast enough, but it
will touch four before they let the bottom drop out. That I happen to
know. This will give you a chance to make a neat thing out of it, and
it will square off the obligation our syndicate's under to you."
"Thank you," was Fenton's answer; "but the obligation, such as it is, I
prefer to have stand, and I haven't any money to put into stock of any
kind now.
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