“Ah, yes,” said the Rev. Dr. Ramsdell, eagerly. “It is precisely _à propos_ of missionary work.” And he told Silas Shaw all about the plan for carrying the light into Bolivia by building the only Protestant chapel in Oruro, where it was incredibly tenebrous—worse than darkest Africa. The reverend doctor hoped, nay, he knew, in view of Brother Shaw’s well-known devotion to the glorious work of redeeming their benighted Bolivian brethren, that he could count upon him, etc.; and the subscription list—— “My dear Dr. Ramsdell,” interrupted Shaw, “I never sign subscription lists. When I give, I give; and I don’t want everybody to know how much I’ve given.” “Well, Brother Shaw, you need not sign your name. I’ll put you down as X. Y. Z.,” he smiled encouragingly. “No, no; don’t put me down at all.” The good doctor looked so surprised and so woebegone that Shaw laughed. “Cheer up, Doctor. I tell you what I’ll do; I’ll buy some Erie for you. Yes, sirree; that’s the best thing I can do. What do you say to that?” And he looked at the doctor, triumphantly. “Ahem!—I am not—are you sure it will prove a—ahem!—a desirable investment? You see, I do not—ah—know much about Wall Street.” “Neither do I. And the older I grow the less I know.” The reverend doctor ventured a tentative smile of semi-incredulity. “That’s right, Doctor. But we’ll make something for you. The blooming, I mean, benighted Bohemians——” “Ahem!—Bolivians, Brother Shaw.” “I meant Bolivians. They must have a chance for their souls. John,” to a clerk; “buy 500 shares of Erie at the market.” “Yes, sir,” said John, disappearing into the telephone booth. To buy, “at the market” meant to buy at the prevailing or market price. “Brother Shaw, I am extremely grateful to you. This matter is very close to my heart, I assure you. And—ah—will—when will I know if the—ah—investment turns out profitably?” “Oh, have no fears on that score. We shall make the stock market contribute to your missionary fund. All you’ll have to do is to look on the financial page of your paper every evening and keep posted.” “I fear, Brother Shaw,” said Dr. Ramsdell, deprecatingly, “that I shall have no little trouble in—ah—keeping posted.” “Not at all. See, here,” and he took up his paper and turned to the stock tables. “Draw up your chair, Doctor. You see, here is Erie. Yesterday, on transactions of 18,230 shares, Erie Railroad stock sold as high as 64¾ and as low as 63¼, the last or closing sale being at 64½. The numbers mean dollars per share. It was very strong. Haven’t you got a report on that 500 Erie yet, John?” “Yes, sir,” said John. “Sixty-five and one-eighth.” “You see, Doctor, the stock is still going up. Well, every day when you look on the table you will see at what price Erie stock is selling. If it is more than 65⅛, why, that will show you are making money. Every point up, that is, every unit, will mean that your missionary fund is $500 richer.” “And—Brother Shaw—ahem!—if it should be—ah—less?”