"Oh, you must make this your office!" exclaimed Fred; "we have plenty of room, for we don't do much business as yet. Our rent is paid up for one year." "Well, I guess that's more, than any other firm in Wall Street can say," and he shook Fred's hand. "I shall be glad to accept your offer, though I shall not come down often." He went out and Fred told old Allison that he had bought Gaines' seat in the Stock Exchange. The old cashier glared in astonishment, saying: "I'm afraid that you will make a mistake in going in there." "Why?" "People get excited there and lose both their heads and fortunes in a very few minutes." "Yes, I know. But I got used to that sort of thing when I was a messenger. It is not new to me." Broker Gaines had not been gone ten minutes ere Gertie Clayton came in. She had a frightened look in her face. Bob met her, and she said: "Oh, I saw it in the papers about the man being killed by the broken glass. It's awful, isn't it?" "Yes, indeed. Come to the ladies' room if you have any time to spare," said Bob, who saw that something had happened. She followed him, and in the cozy little parlor said to him: "I can't go back to Mr. Bowles office any more, Bob." "Why not?" "He told me this morning that Mr. Bryant's typewriter was sick, and that I would have to go up to his office to do some work for him. I said I was not working for Mr. Bryant and did not care to go to his office. He replied that he and Bryant were in a deal together, and that I must go and earn my salary." "The old brute!" exclaimed Bob. "Just stay right here. I can get plenty of work for you." "But I have no machine," she replied, and her eyes filled with tears. "We have got to have one some day and may as well have it now as at any other time. I'll get the money and you can go and buy one," and turned and went out to the banking room, got $100 from the cashier and went back to her. He found her with her face buried in her hands and sobbing as though her heart would break. "Why, what in thunder is the matter, Gertie?" he exclaimed. "Oh, Bob, I--I--you seem to be the only friend I have in the world." "Well, I'm much afraid that I'll stand by you till I can't breathe. Come, brace up. Here's one hundred dollars. Go and buy a machine. Get the best in the market. If that isn't enough, come back and get more. I'll let Bowles and Bryant both know that my girl can get on without them!" and he thrust the roll of bills into her hands as she spoke. "Bob, am I your girl?" she asked, looking shyly up at him through her tears. "Of course you are, unless you don't want to be." "You won't go back on me when you get rich, will you?" she asked. "Not much I won't." "There's my hand then," and she gave him her hand. He grasped it, squeezed it and did just what any other well-regulated boy would have done under such circumstances--kissed her on the lips. "Hello! Spooning, by George!" cried Fred, suddenly entering the room. "In business hours, too."