"What have you got my name on it for?"

"I am having a little fun out of it--that's all."

"You have no right to use my name at all."

"Maybe I haven't. Go to law about it, and let the court decide that question. I am going to keep it there, for you are the meanest man in Wall Street. You had a messenger boy discharged from his position of five dollars a week. It will be a long time before I can have fun enough with you to satisfy me, Mr. Bryant."

"I did not have you discharged."

"Oh, that's all right."

"But you can ask Manson."

"Yes, I know. We got more of his fleece than we did of yours. I haven't had much fun with him yet. One at a time and it will last longer."

"You must take my name off that thing there."

"Not at your command I won't."

"Well, I'll see about it," and he turned and went out.

Fred and those in the main office were not aware of what had been going on between Bob and Bryant in the private office.

"What did he say, Bob?" Fred asked.

Bob told him what had pa.s.sed between the broker and himself, adding:

"He is the maddest man on earth. I am getting even with him, and am going to run that fleece business till some court tells me to stop it."

"By George," exclaimed Fred, "if he goes to law about it we'll be the best advertised firm in the Street."

"That's so," remarked Allison, his broad face wreathed in smiles. "He is a strong man--has many friends; but Wall Street brokers are always ready to shear each other."

"Of course they are. Business knows no friendship. It is merciless in its operations."

Allison looked at him in no little surprise. Such a hard, cynical view of business coming from one so young almost startled him.

"Where did you pick up that idea?" he asked Fred.

"In the Stock Exchange when I was a messenger boy," was the reply.

"Who gave it to you?"

"n.o.body. I got the idea from what I saw going on all around me."

"Well, you have observed closely, young man. It's a harsh judgment, but correct in the main. I hope, though, that in your success you will not forget those who are unfortunate."

"I hope so, too, Mr. Allison. It is not my nature to be mean or stingy.

Bob gave the old beggar with the red shawl a dollar yesterday."

"He did, eh?"

"Yes, sir. She's sixty if a day."

"Yes, and has been begging in Wall Street for twenty years. I'd wager a month's salary she has ten thousand dollars in bank and owns real estate somewhere on Manhattan island."

"What are you giving me?" and Fred looked the picture of incredulity.

"The straight truth. I have a nephew in a little east side bank above Grand street, and he says she has a fat account there, and that he has seen three other bank books in her possession."

"Well, I'll be hanged!" exclaimed Fred. "I thought I knew a thing or two, but that yarn jiggers me."

The old man laughed and was going to say more when a crowd of boys came in. Business had closed for the day, and every messenger boy in Wall and Broad streets had made a rush to see Fred and Bob in their new role as bankers. Boothblacks and newsboys were among them, and they made the welkin ring with their shouts.

"Say, give us a loan, Bob."

"Cash a check for me, Fred."

"How much c.h.i.n.k have you got, boys?"

"Where did you break in, Fred?"

"How much did you get?"

"Where were the cops?"

"Ah, let up on that, cullies!" sung out Fred. "Come by to-morrow at this time and get a ticket for a square meal. It's none of your business where we got it. We've got it and that's enough."

They gave Halsey & Company three cheers and left. Just an they were about to close the doors Callie Ketcham came in.

"Oh, my, what a grand place it is, Fred!" she exclaimed, as she looked around the place. "Promise me a situation when you need a typewriter."

"Indeed I won't!" he replied.

"Why?" and she looked at him in surprise.

"Tips!" he whispered.

She laughed and exclaimed:

"Oh, yes, I see!"

"Besides, if you were here all the time I'd do very little business, I fear."

"Oh, that's some of your talk again. Have you any depositors?"

"No. Just opened to-day."