“Of course I don’t. I haven’t any mash unless it’s yourself,” grinned Jack. “Haven’t you got a cheek!” laughed the stenographer, blushing. “Well, then, I’ll tell you who it was. It was Fanny Bruce, and she looked just too cute for anything.” “I’d liked to have seen her, too,” said Jack. “She’s the loveliest little girl, I think, I ever saw,” said Millie, enthusiastically. “Hello!” exclaimed Ed Potter, walking in. “What are you two chinning about? Why don’t you get busy? What am I paying you for?” “Hello, Ed! What brought you around?” “My feet. Did you think it was an automobile?” “Isn’t he funny?” said Millie. “You must excuse him, Millie; he isn’t responsible at all times.” “I s’pose you think that’s amusing,” growled Ed. “Say, Ed, I want to see you a moment,” said Jack, walking over to a window. “Well, look at me; I’m on exhibition for the time being,” snickered Potter. “Oh, rats! Come over here. I want to talk to you. Got any money you want to invest?” he asked as Ed approached. “Sure--seven cents.” “Stop your fooling. Got ten dollars? If you have, I’ll put you on to a sure thing.” “What is it?” “Buy a couple of shares of L. S. on a ten-per-cent margin. Last quotation thirty-six.” “Got a tip?” “That’s what I have. I’m going down to the Seaman’s to-morrow to draw my pile. I’ve enough to collar twenty-five shares at that margin.” “Well, I’ll think about it.” Next morning L. S. opened at the same figure, and as soon as he got the chance Jack hied himself to the savings bank, drew his money, and, dropping in on Oliver Bird, surprised that gentleman by asking him to buy 25 shares of L. S. for him. “You ought to know your business, Jack; but it seems to me you’re doing a foolish thing,” said the broker, warningly. “That’s where you and I differ at present. Back me for twenty-five shares more, and I’ll let you in on the ground floor.” “What do you mean by that?” asked Bird, curiously. “Will you stand for the twenty-five if I tell you?” “Certainly, if you’re determined to make the plunge; but remember, I strongly advise you against it. I owe you a good turn, and I’ll back you for fifty, so take your money away.” “That isn’t business, Mr. Bird. I won’t accept any favors in this deal. I come to you same as I would to any broker. I’ll sell you a share in my tip for a ten-per-cent margin on twenty-five shares of L. S. And if you consider the tip worth it, I want you to deal with me same as you would with anyone else.” “Well, what’s your tip, Jack?” asked the broker, smiling doubtfully. “Hartz and Bradshaw are getting up a corner to boost L. S.” “How do you know that?” asked Bird, sharply. Jack told him what he had overheard the two men say at the capitalist’s office the day before. Mr. Bird considered a moment.