personal attention to business duties for some months to come. Tony told his misfortune to the bustling young chap who owned the news-stand, casually and not hopefully.
"Too bad," sympathized George. "Too bad, old man!" and considered the incident a closed one. But later, watching the number of patrons who climbed up in Tony's chairs, and computing the total of the dimes they left each day in Tony's cash drawer, he began to scent an opportunity. The chairs, the brushes, the bench, the whole outfit, could have been duplicated for $40. The balance of the $200 Tony demanded was his valuation on good will, on the steady stream of patrons, and George had been in business long enough to know that this stream of patrons was the difference between success and failure. He estimated the stream and decided it was worth the money—provided one had the money.
Now it happened that George had observed quite early this important fact—that the most flourishing tree of prosperity has its beginning in a very small plant and that while this plant is small it may be bought for very little, but that little must usually be cash. That he might be ready when such an opportunity knocked at his door, George had enjoined upon himself the habit of a cash reserve. At first it used to be only fifty cents to buy the morrow's stock of papers with, but it grew larger; and all the while
