an with an assumption of great wisdom
on all matters relating to wheat. He looked prematurely knowing, and
spit with a manly air.

As Bradley took a seat at the desk, Bergen was calling into the
telephone in a high, sonorous, monotonous voice, "Wheat opened at
ninety-three, three quarters; sold as high as ninety-four; is now
ninety-three and three eighths. Corn opened at forty-two; is now
forty-one and seven eighths. Bradstreet's decrease on both coasts the
past week, two and a quarter millions. Cables very strong."

Cargill came in a little later, and greeted Bradley with a nod while
crossing the room to look at the blackboard.

"Draw up a chair," he said, and they took a seat at the table, while
the business of the office went on. "You'll be interested in knowing
something about this business," he said to Bradley. "It's as legitimate
as buying or selling real estate on a commission; but so far as the
popular impression goes, there is no difference between this and a
bucket-shop."

"It's all very new to me," said Bradley. "I don't know the difference
between this and the bucket-shop."

"Ninety-three and seven eighths bid on wheat," called Bergen from a
slip, as he walked back and chalked the latest intelligence upon the
board.

"Well, there is a difference. In this case, we simply buy and sell on
commission. These are real purchases and sales. The order for wheat is
transmitted to Chicago and registered, and has its effect upon the
market; whereas in a bucket-shop the sale does not go out of the
office, and, if there is a loss to the customer, the proprietor gains
it. In other words, we buy and sell for others, with no personal
interest in the sale; the bucket-shop is a pure gambling establishment,
where men bet on what other men are going to do. But that ain't what I
had you call to talk over. I want you to meet Bergen. Chris, come over
here," he called. "I want to introduce the Honorable Talcott of Rock
River. He's started in, like yourself, to reform politics.

"The reason why I wanted you to meet Bergen," Cargill went on, "is
because he is a sincerer lover of literature than myself, and like
yourself, I imagine, believes thoroughly in the classics. He's
translating Ibsen for the Square Table Club. His idea of amusement
ain't mine, I needn't say."

"New York still hammers away on the market. Partridge quietly buying to
cover on the decline."

"Excuse me a moment," said Bergen, returning to business.

C