Fluctuating Stock
The firm of "Moore & O'Donnel, Wholesale Dry Goods" had come to a standstill, at last. The firm leaned back on its expensive chairs, and the feet of the two members met across its costly desk. The firm was smoking. There was little else for it to do. One would have imagined that each of the members of the firm was buried in his own thoughts. But the whispering, chuckling group of employees, Maclay, Stewart, Jones and Finnegan, besides Brennan, the Stenographer, who was standing in the doorway ogling the girls on the street, all knew that they were both thinking alike; they always did.
"Well," drawled Moore, at last, in his deep, agreeable voice, "We've advertised! Hope someone'll show up with money and credit."
"Think we'll be getting replies?" asked O'Donnel, chewing his cigar.
"Sure," said Moore in his taciturn way.
To hear Moore speak thus was in itself a relief to O'Donnel. His admiration for Moore was almost unlimited, for unlike his own short, stocky self, he was of great height, with the large striking features of a North American Indian whom he resembled, and his ancestors had fought in most of the American wars. Besides this, altho possessing no great ability, Moore had the faculty of being able to look at all things equably and could often get difficult matters accomplished without even suspecting the troublesome barriers which lay in wait for the plebeian-minded O'Donnel. Moore had, in addition, a very wealthy father in the iron
foundry business who, when in good humor, scoffingly kept furnishing his son with sums of money to use in experimenting with any business he chose save his own. O'Donnel had a secret feeling that America really belonged to people such as his friend was, and he was proud of being connected with him.
"Maclay, go over to the "Herald" office, will you," Moore called out.
The young man spoken to disengaged himself from the knot of employees and, carefully brushing his hair and adjusting his tie first, as is customary in places uninterrupted with business, sallied forth.
The firm smoked on again in silence. They had made a bad mess of it, and they knew it, and now there was nothing to do but to wait for the clerk to bring letters from prospective partners.
Maclay brought nearly a dozen. O'Donnel put down his cigar and rubbed his knees delightedly. Moore retained his, and soberly perused his letters.
There were some extravagant offers painted in such glowing terms that O'Donnel's round red face beamed at once. But here, Moore's innate breeding served him well, for he rejected them instinctively on account of their very fulsomeness. At last he said, "Here's one from a party called Bernstein. Seems worth looking into."
O'Donnel read the letter disconsol- ately. The writer had a few thousand dollars, not too many, which he might be willing to invest with the firm of Moore & O'Donnel, if their allegations proved correct and provided he was