ounting-room; who had no need to ask himself how much money was coming
in to-morrow. And at the same time you felt that every cent of whatever
might be to-morrow's dues would find its way to his hands as surely as
the representative figures stood on his ledger's page. It was young Mr.
Van Riper--but he, too, had lost his right to that title, not only
because of his years, but because, in the garret of the house in
Greenwich Village, a cobweb stretched from one of the low beams to the
head of old Abram Van Riper's great walking-stick, which stood in the
corner where it had been placed, with other rubbish, the day after Abram
Van Riper's funeral.

"I should not advise it, Dolph, if it can be helped," Mr. Van Riper
observed, thoughtfully.

"It can't be helped."

"I can give you your price, of course," Van Riper went on, with
deliberation; "but equally of course, it won't be anything like what the
property will bring in the course of a few years."

Dolph kicked at the hearthrug, as he answered, somewhat testily:

"I'm not making a speculation of it."

Mr. Van Riper was unmoved.

"And I'm not making a speculation of you, either," he said, calmly: "I
am speaking only for your own benefit, Dolph."

Mr. Dolph put his hands in his pockets, strode to the window and back
again, and then said, with an uneasy little laugh:

"I beg your pardon, Van Riper; you're quite right, of course. The fact
is, I've got to do it. I must have the money, and I must have it now."

Mr. Van Riper stroked his sharp chin.

"Is it necessary to raise the money in that particular way? You are
temporarily embarrassed--I don't wish to be intrusive--but why not
borrow what you need, and give me a mortgage on the house?"

Ten years had given Jacob Dolph a certain floridity; but at this he
blushed a hot red.

"Mortgage on the house? No, sir," he said, with emphasis.

"Well, any other security, then," was Van Riper's indifferent amendment.

Again Jacob Dolph strode to the window and back again, staring hard at
the carpet, and knitting his brows.

Mr. Van Riper waited in undisturbed calm until his friend spoke once
more.

"I might as well tell you the truth, Van Riper," he said, at last;
"I've made a fool of myself. I've lost money, and I've got to pocket the
loss. As to borrowing, I've borrowed all I ought to borrow. I _won't_
mortgage the house. This sale simply represents the hole in my capital."

Something like a look of surprise came in