ked on, mopping his puffy face with a shiny blue
handkerchief. George wondered if he had displeased Blodgett by going
with Goodhue. He decided he hadn't, for the picturesquely dressed man
stopped oftener after that, chatting quite familiarly.

Whatever one thought of Blodgett's appearance and manner, one admired
him. George hadn't been in the Street a week before he realized that the
house of Blodgett and Sinclair was one of the most powerful in America,
with numerous ramifications to foreign countries. There was no phase of
finance it didn't touch; and, as far as George could see, it was all
Josiah Blodgett, who had come to New York from the West, by way of
Chicago. In those offices Sinclair was scarcely more than a name in gold
on various doors. Once or twice, during the summer, indeed, George saw
the partner chatting in a bored way with Blodgett. His voice was high
and affected, like Wandel's, and he had a house in Newport. According to
office gossip he had little money interest in the firm, lending the
prestige of his name for what Blodgett thought it was worth. As he
watched the fat, hard worker chatting with the butterfly man, George
suddenly realized that Blodgett might want a house in Newport, too. Was
it because he was Richard Goodhue's room-mate that Blodgett stopped him
in the hall one day, grinning with good nature?

"If I were a cub," he puffed, "I'd buy this very morning all the Katydid
I could, and sell at eighty-nine."

George whistled.

"I knew something was due to happen to Katydid, but I didn't expect
anything like that."

"How did you know?" Blodgett demanded.

He shot questions until he had got the story of George's close
observation and night drudgery.

"Glad to see Mundy hasn't dropped you out the window yet," he grinned.
"Maybe you'll get along. Glad for Mr. Alston's sake. See here, if I were
a cub, and knew as much about Katydid as you do, I wouldn't hesitate to
borrow a few cents from the boss."

"No," George said. "I've a very little of my own. I'll use that."

He had, perhaps, two hundred dollars in the bank at Princeton. He drew a
check without hesitation and followed Blodgett's advice. He had
commenced to speculate without risk. Several times after that Blodgett
jerked out similar advice, usually commencing with: "What does young
Pierpont Morgan think of so and so?" And usually George would give his
employer a reasonable forecast. Because of these discreet hints his
balance grew,