When iron looked up, as recorded elsewhere in this narrative, there was at the same time much looking up done or attempted by various railroad-companies. To some of them the improved prospects of iron were due; others were merely hopeful and venturesome; but that portion of the general public which regards a railroad only as a basis for the issue of stock in which men can speculate did not distinguish between the two.

Like iron and railroads, stocks also began to look up, and Mr. Marge devoted himself more closely than ever to the quotations which followed each other moment by moment on the tape of the stock-ticker. It seemed never safe for him to be out of hearing of the instrument, for figures changed so suddenly and unexpectedly; shares in some solid old roads about which everybody knew everything remained at their old figures, while some concerns that had only just been introduced in Wall Street, and were as problematic as new acquaintances in general, figured largely in the daily reports of Stock Exchange transactions.

Mr. Marge remembered previous occasions of similar character: during the first of them he had been a “lamb,” and was sheared so closely and rudely that he afterward took great interest in the shearing process, perhaps to improve and reform it. He was not at all misled by the operations on the street at the period with which this story concerns itself; he knew that some of the new securities were selling for more than they were worth, that the prices of others, and the great volume of transactions in them, were made wholly by brokers whose business it was to keep them before the people. Others, which seemed promising, could fulfil their hopes only on certain contingencies.

Yet Marge, cool and prudent though he was, took no interest whatever in “securities” that deserved their name; he devoted all his attention to such stocks as fluctuated wildly,—stocks about which conflicting rumors, both good and bad, came day by day, sometimes hour by hour. He did not hesitate to inform himself that he was simply a gambler, at the only gentlemanly game which the law did not make disreputable, and that the place for his wits and money was among the stocks which most indulged in “quick turns” and to which the outside public—the great flock of lambs—would be most attracted.

After a careful survey of the market, and several chats, apparently by chance, with alleged authorities of the street, he determined to confine his operations to the stock of “The Eastern and Western Consolidated Railway Company,” better known on the street and the stock-tickers’ tapes as “E. & W.” This stock had every feature that could make any alleged security attractive to operators, for there was a great deal of it, the company was formed by the consolidation, under the guise of leasing, of the property of several other companies, it was steadily picking up small feeders and incorporating them with the main line, it held some land-grants of possible value, and, lastly, some of the managers were so brilliant, daring, and unscrupulous that startling changes in the quotations might occur at any time at very short notice. Could a gambler ask for a more promising game?

E. & W. soon began to justify Marge in his choice. For the first few days after he ventured into it the stock crept up by fractions and points so that by selling out and promptly re-purchasing Marge was able to double his investment, “on a margin,” from his profits alone. A temporary break frightened him a little, but on a rumor that the company was obtaining a lease of an important connecting link he borrowed enough money to buy more instead of selling, and as—for a wonder—the rumor proved true, he “realized” enough to take a couple of hundred shares more. Success began to manifest itself in his countenance and his manner, and to his great satisfaction he once heard his name coupled with that of one of the prominent operators in the stock.

His success had also the effect of making his plans more expansive and aspiring. Should E. & W. go on as it was going, he must within half a year become quite well off,—almost rich, in fact. Such being the case, might it not be a mistake for him to attach as much importance as he had done to the iron-business and its possible effect upon the dower of Miss Tramlay? She was a charming girl, but money ought to marry money, and what would be a share of the forty or fifty thousand a year that Tramlay might make in a business which, after all, could have but the small margin of profit which active competition would allow? There were rich families toward whose daughters he had not previously dared to raise his eyes, for their heads would have demanded a fuller financial exhibit than he cared to make on the basis of the few thousands of dollars which he had invested in profitable tenement-house property. As a large holder of E. & W. his position would be different; for were not the heads of these various families operating in E. & W. themselves?

Little by little he lessened his attentions to Lucia, and his visits to the house became fewer. To Phil, who did not know the cause, the result was quickly visible, and delightful as well. The only disquieting effect was that Mrs. Tramlay’s manner perceptibly changed to an undesirable degree. That prudent lady continued to inform her husband that there seemed to be no movement in Haynton Bay villa plots, and that the persistency of the young man from the country seemed to have the effect of discouraging Mr. Marge, who really had some financial standing.

The change in Marge’s manner was perceptible throughout the Tramlay family. Even Margie experienced a sense of relief, and she said one evening to Lucia,—

“Isn’t it lovely that your old beau is so busy in Wall Street nowadays? He doesn’t come here half as much as he used to, and I don’t have to be bored by him while you’re talking to Phil. You ought to fit up a room especially for me in your new house, Lu, for I’ve endured a dreadful lot for your sake.”

“You silly child,” Lucia replied, “you might catch Mr. Marge yourself, if you liked. Mamma seems to want to have him in the family.”

“Thank you for the ‘if,’” Margie retorted, “but I don’t care for a husband almost old enough to be my grandfather, after being accustomed to seeing a real nice, handsome young man about the house.”

“He has money,” said Lucia, “and that is what most girls are dying to marry. Papa says he is making a fortune if he is as deep in the market as some folks say.”

“I hope he is,” said Margie. “He ought to have something besides a wooden face, and a bald head, and the same set of speeches and manners for all occasions. What a splendid sphinx he would make, or an old monument! Maybe he isn’t quite antique enough, but for vivacity he isn’t any more remarkable than a stone statue. Just think of what Phil has saved us from!”

And still E. & W. went up. The discovery of valuable mineral deposits on the line of one of its branches sent the stock flying up several points in a single day, and soon afterward a diversion of some large grain-shipments from a parallel line helped it still further. That the grain was carried at a loss did not trouble any one,—probably because only the directors knew it, and it was not their business to make such facts public. And with each rise of the stock Marge sold out, so as to have a larger margin with which to operate.

At the first of the year E. & W. declared a dividend so large, for a security that had been far below par, that even prudent investors began to crowd to the street and buy the stock to put into their safes. The effect of this was to send shares up so rapidly and steadily that Marge had difficulty in re-purchasing at the price at which he sold; but he did so well that more than six thousand shares now stood in his name on the books of his broker. Six thousand shares represented about half a million dollars, at the price which E. & W. commanded. Marge admitted to himself that it did not mean so much to him, for he had not a single certificate in his pocket or anywhere else. But what were stock certificates to a man who operated on a margin? They were good enough for widows and orphans and other people incapable or unwilling to watch the market and who were satisfied to draw annually whatever dividends might chance to be declared. To Marge the stock as it appeared on his broker’s books signified that he had cleared nearly fifty thousand dollars on it within two months; and all this money was reinvested—on margin—in the same stock, with the probability of doubling itself every month until E. & W. should go quite a way beyond par. Were it to creep up only five per cent, a month—it had been doing more than twice as well—he could figure up a cool million of gain before the summer dulness should strike the market. Then he would sell out, run over to Europe, and take a rest: he felt that he would have earned it by that time.

Of course there was no danger that E. & W. would go down. Smart, who, in the parlance of the street, was “taking care of it,” had publicly said, again and again, that E. & W. would reach one hundred and fifty before summer; and, although Smart was one of the younger men in the street, he had engineered two or three other things in a manner which had made older operators open their eyes and checkbooks. Smart’s very name seemed to breed luck, his prophecies about other movements had been fulfilled, he evidently had his own fortune largely invested in E. & W., so what more could any operator ask? Even now the stock was hard to get; investors who wanted small quantities had generally to bid above the market-quotations; and even when a large block changed hands it depressed quotations only a fraction, which would be more than recovered within twenty-four hours. Marge’s margin was large enough to protect him against loss, even should a temporary panic strike the market and depress everything by sympathy: indeed, some conservative brokers told Marge that he could safely carry the stock on a much smaller margin.

Better men have had their heads turned by less success, and forgotten not only tender sentiments but tender vows: so it is no wonder that, as his financial standing improved daily, Marge’s interest in Lucia weakened. The countryman might have her; there was as good fish in the sea as that he had hoped to catch,—not only as good, but a great deal better. He would not break old friendships, he really esteemed the Tramlays, but—friendship was a near enough relationship.