Lots of firms would be glad to get
you."

"I want to get into something sound. I want to keep away from just
brokers," said Bojo, much cheered.

"And you're right," said Stoughton, nodding. He drew out a card and
penciled it. "You know Harding and Stonebach? Harding's a good friend of
mine--give him this card. They're what you want--make a specialty of
development, electric plants, street railways, and that sort of thing.
Big future for a young fellow who's got a talent for constructive
organization."

"That's just what I want," said Bojo, delighted. He shook hands,
thanking him effusively.

Mr. Harding was in but asked him to call after lunch. He wandered about
the Wall Street district, stopping to chat with several acquaintances on
the curb, and ate lunch, finding it hard to kill time. Back at the
appointment, he was forced to sit, shifting restlessly, watching the
clock hands make a slow full revolution before his name was called. This
enforced wait, stealing glances at the flitting procession of purposeful
visitors and the two or three oldish men, neither impatient nor very
hopeful, who came after him, biding their turn, somehow robbed him of
all his confidence. His head was weary with the click of typewriters and
the fire of his assurance out. He tried to state his case concisely and
promptly, and felt hurried and embarrassed.

In two minutes he was out in the hall again, the interview for which he
had waited a day, over. Mr. Harding, with incisive, businesslike
despatch, had taken his card and noted his address, promising to notify
him if occasion arose. He understood it was a dismissal. As he went out,
one of the oldish men arose without emotion at the new summons, folding
his newspaper and pocketing his spectacles. Bojo returned to the Court,
essaying to laugh down his disappointment, yielding already to the
subtle depression of being a straggler and watching the army sweep by.

The next day he continued his quest, the next and all of that week.
Sometimes he met with curt refusal that left a scar on his pride;
sometimes he seemed to gain headway and have opportunity almost on his
fingers until somehow, sooner or later, in the categorical questioning
it transpired that his last venture had been with a firm of speculative
brokers who had been caught and squeezed. Gradually it dawned upon him
that there was something strange in the resulting sudden shift of
attitude, a superstition of the Street itself, a ga