can have your money back, Mrs. Hunt, if you wish it,” he told her, quite unprofessionally. “You seem to worry about it so much.”
“Oh, I am not worrying, exactly; only, I do wish I hadn’t bought—I mean, the money was so safe in the Trolleyman’s Trust Company, that I can’t help thinking I might just as well have let it stay where it was, even if it didn’t bring me in so much. But, of course, if you want me to leave it here,” she said, very slowly to give him every opportunity to contradict her, “of course, I’ll do just as you say.”
“My dear Mrs. Hunt,” Colwell said, very politely, “my only desire is to please you and to help you. When you buy bonds you must be prepared to be patient. It may take months before you will be able to sell yours at a profit, and I don’t know how low the price will go in the meantime. Nobody can tell you that, because nobody knows. But it need make no difference to you whether the bonds go to 90, or even to 85, which is unlikely.”
“Why, how can you say so, Mr. Colwell? If the bonds go to 90, I’ll lose $6,000–-my friend said it was one thousand for every number down. And at 85 that would be”—counting on her fingers—“eleven numbers, that is, eleven—thousand—dollars!” And she gazed at him, awe-strickenly, reproachfully. “How can you say it would make no difference, Mr. Colwell?”
Mr. Colwell fiercely hated the unnamed “friend,” who had told her so little and yet so much. But he said to her, mildly: “I thought that I had explained all that to you. It might hurt a weak speculator if the bonds declined ten points, though such a decline is utterly improbable. But it won’t affect you in the slightest, since, having an ample margin, you would not be forced to sell. You would simply hold on until the price rose again. Let me illustrate. Supposing your house cost $10,000, and——”
“Harry paid $32,000,” she said, correctingly. On second thought she smiled, in order to let him see that she knew her interpolation was irrelevant. But he might as well know the actual cost.
“Very well,” he said, good-humoredly, “we’ll say $32,000, which was also the price of every other house in that block. And suppose that, owing to some accident, or for any reason whatever, nobody could be found to pay more than $25,000 for one of the houses, and three or four of your neighbors sold theirs at that price. But you wouldn’t, because you knew that in the fall, when everybody came back to town, you would find plenty of people who’d give you $50,000 for your house; you wouldn’t sell it for $25,000, and you wouldn’t worry. Would you, now?” he finished, cheerfully.
“No,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t worry. But,” hesitatingly, for, after all, she felt the awkwardness of her position, “I wish I had the money instead of the bonds.” And she added, self-defensively: “I haven’t slept a wink for three nights thinking about this.”
The thought of his coming emancipation cheered Mr. Colwell immensely. “Your wish shall be gratified, Mrs. Hunt. Why didn’t you ask me before, if you felt that way?” he said, in mild reproach. And he summoned a clerk.
“Make out a check for $35,000 payable to Mrs. Rose Hunt, and transfer the 100 Manhattan Electric Light 5s to my personal account.”
He gave her the check and told her: “Here is the money. I am very sorry that I unwittingly caused you some anxiety. But all’s well that ends well. Any time that I can be of service to you—Not at all. Don’t thank me, please; no. Good morning.”
But he did not tell her that by taking over her account he paid $96,000 for bonds he could have bought in the open market for $93,000. He was the politest man in Wall Street; and, after all, he had known Hunt for many years.
A week later Manhattan Electric 5–per cent bonds sold at 96 again. Mrs. Hunt called on him. It was noon, and she evidently had spent the morning mustering up courage for the visit. They greeted one another, she embarrassed and he courteous and kindly as usual.
“Mr. Colwell, you still have those bonds, haven’t you?”
“Why, yes.”
“I—I think I’d like to take them back.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Hunt. I’ll find out how much they are selling for.” He summoned a clerk to get a quotation on Manhattan Electric 5s. The clerk telephoned to one of their bond-specialists, and learned that the bonds could be bought at 96½. He reported to Mr. Colwell, and Mr. Colwell told Mrs. Hunt, adding: “So you see they are practically where they were when you bought them before.”
She hesitated. “I—I—didn’t you buy them from me at 93? I’d like to buy them back at the same price I sold them to you.”
“No, Mrs. Hunt,” he said; “I bought them from you at 96.”
“But the price was 93.” And she added, corroboratively: “Don’t you remember it was in all the papers?”
“Yes, but I gave you back exactly the same amount that I received from you, and I had the bonds transferred to my account. They stand on our books as having cost me 96.”
“But couldn’t you let me have them at 93?” she persisted.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Hunt, but I don’t see how I could. If you buy them in the open market now, you will be in exactly the same position as before you sold them, and you will make a great deal of money, because they are going up now. Let me buy them for you at 96½.”
“At 93, you mean,” with a tentative smile.
“At whatever price they may be selling for,” he corrected, patiently.
“Why did you let me sell them, Mr. Colwell?” she asked, plaintively.
“But, my dear madam, if you buy them now, you will be no worse off than if you had kept the original lot.”
“Well, I don’t see why it is that I have to pay 96½ now for the very same bonds I sold last Tuesday at 93. If it was some other bonds,” she added, “I wouldn’t mind so much.”
“My dear Mrs. Hunt, it makes no difference which bonds you hold. They have all risen in price, yours and mine and everybody’s; your lot was the same as any other lot. You see that, don’t you?”
“Ye-es; but——”
“Well, then, you are exactly where you were before you bought any. You’ve lost nothing, because you received your money back intact.”
“I’m willing to buy them,” she said resolutely, “at 93.”
“Mrs. Hunt, I wish I could buy them for you at that price. But there are none for sale cheaper than 96½.”
“Oh, why did I let you sell my bonds!” she said, disconsolately.
“Well, you worried so much because they had declined that——”
“Yes, but I didn’t know anything about business matters. You know I didn’t, Mr. Colwell,” she finished, accusingly.
He smiled in his good-natured way. “Shall I buy the bonds for you?” he asked. He knew the plans of the syndicate in charge, and being sure the bonds would advance, he thought she might as well share in the profits. At heart he felt sorry for her.
She smiled back. “Yes,” she told him, “at 93.” It
