"If it isn't too much trouble."
"Not at all. The stock is now selling at 380."
"Is it?" said Mrs. Buxton, politely, endeavoring to appear interested.
"Yes. The Stuyvesants want it badly, and they are willing to pay for it. It's worth more to them than to-any one else. I really think you would do well to sell it."
"Change it for the bonds?"
"Oh dear no," laughed the broker. "Sell it for cash and buy any bonds you wish—good railroad bonds that will net you four per cent. or a trifle over. If you do that, you can get very nearly $5000 a year on your money."
"I can?" said Mrs. Buxton, starting. "Why, I only get $2100 now."
"Yes, and your money would be just as safe."
"Are you sure of it?" Mrs. Buxton closed her eyes in order not to see the shattering of her joyful dream at Mr. Mitchell's next words. She tried also to close her ears by an effort of the mind. But she heard him say,
"Absolutely sure, Mrs. Buxton."
"Well, then, do it."
"Very well."
"Are you sure, Mr. Mitchell?" She was brave—and a woman.
Mitchell smiled. "Absolutely. Does it seem too good to be true?"
"Yes."
"It isn't, though."
"Are you s—Very well, Mr. Mitchell. I trust you. Go ahead."
"We'll buy good safe bonds for you. By the way, you never came back to tell me not to convert my stock."
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't you see Colonel Channing that day you were here, a couple of years ago?"
"Oh yes; I saw him."
"Then he told you not to convert your stock?"
"On the contrary, he told me to convert it by all means. He advised me very strongly to do it."
"And you didn't?"
"No."
"In Heaven's name, will you tell me why you didn't?"
"Well, Mr. Mitchell, I didn't like his face!"
Mitchell laughed uproariously. Mrs. Buxton smiled indecisively —as women smile when they see men laughing overa joke they do not understand.
"You were wiser than the wisest people in the Street, Mrs. Buxton. I congratulate you," and he shook hands warmly.
At a loss to understand why he laughed and now congratulated her, Mrs. Buxton repeated, knowingly, "I didn't like his face!" She was disappointed when he merely smiled at the repetition.
"The stock," he said, "was 180 on the day you saw him. It is 380 to-day. You've made 200 points on 300 shares." Seeing her blank stare, he explained: "You've made $60,000 by not taking the advice of a man whose face you didn't like. I take off my hat to you!"
"He was very polite, too!" said Mrs. Buxton, as if that made her masterstroke of finance all the more praiseworthy.
And so Mrs. Buxton enjoyed her tour of England, Scotland, and Ireland hugely, and returned to Indianapolis a rich woman—the richest in the block, as the block was allowed to learn.
And in Mitchell's office they still talk of Channing's $60,000 face.
Predilection
ART minded so, stand proudly, lordly walk,
Be mindful alway of thy nobler breed;
I stoop to hear the blackcap "atom" talk,
To watch the lusty milkweed spill her seed.
