t if there
were really any small sums the professor would be out of pocket, he
would of course not be mean.

This left him four thousand dollars with which to buy his way into the
directorate of that express company, as suggested by Aunt Clara. He had
learned a great deal about buying stocks. He knew there was a method
called "buying on a margin" which was greatly superior to buying the
shares outright: you received a great many more shares for a given sum.
Therefore he would buy thus, and the sooner be a director. He liked to
think of that position in his moments of lesser exaltation. He recalled
his child-self sitting beside his father on the seat of an express
wagon. It was queer how life turned out--sometimes you couldn't get away
from a thing. Maybe he would always be a director; still he could go
into baseball, too.

He did his business with the broker without a twinge of his old
timidity. Indeed, he was rather bored by the affair. The broker took his
money and later in the day he learned that he controlled a very large
number of the shares of the Federal Express Company. He forgot how many,
but he knew it was a number befitting his new dignity. Having done this
much he thought the directorship could wait. Let them come to him if
they wanted him. He had other affairs on.

There was the new dog.

It was not the least of many great days in Bean's life, that golden
afternoon when he sped to the bird-and-animal store and paid the last
installment of Napoleon's ransom. The creature greeted him joyously as
of yore through the wall of glass, frantically essaying to lick the hand
that was so close and yet so unaccountably withheld.

The money passed, and one dream, at least, had been made to come true.
For the first time he was in actual contact with the wonderful animal.

"He knows me," said Bean, as the dog hurled itself delightedly upon him.
"We've been friends a long time. I think he got so he expected me every
afternoon."

Napoleon barked emphatically in confirmation of this. He seemed to be
saying: "Hurry! Let's get out of here before he puts me back in that
window!"

The old man confessed that he would miss the little fellow. He advised
Bean to call him "Nap." "Napoleon" was no right name for a dog of any
character.

"You know what that fellow been if he been here now," he volunteered at
parting. "I dell you, you bed your life! He been a gompanion unt partner
in full with that great American train-robbe