He knew his sister-in-law to be a wordly-minded, frivolous woman, with many trivial ambitions; but in this instance he had misgivings that she might be right.  What did he, John Merrick, know of select society?  A poor man, of humble origin, he had wandered into the infantile, embryo West years ago and there amassed a fortune.  When he retired and returned to “civilization” he found his greatest reward In the discovery of three charming nieces, all “as poor as Job’s turkey” but struggling along bravely, each in her individual characteristic way, and well worthy their doting uncle’s affectionate admiration.  Mrs. Merrick had recited some of the advantages they had derived from the advent of this rich relative; but even she could not guess how devoted the man was to the welfare of these three fortunate girls, nor how his kindly, simple heart resented the insinuation that he was neglecting anything that might contribute to their happiness.

Possession of money had never altered John Merrick’s native simplicity.  He had no extravagant tastes, dressed quietly and lived the life of the people.  On this eventful morning the man of millions took a cross-town car to the elevated station and climbed the stairs to his train.  Once seated and headed cityward he took out his memorandum book to see what engagements he had for the day.  There were three for the afternoon.  At twelve o’clock he had promised to meet Von Taer.

“H-m-m.  Von Taer.”

Gazing reflectively from the window he remembered a conversation with a prominent banker some month or so before.  “Von Taer,” the banker had said, “is an aristocrat with an independent fortune, who clings to the brokerage business because he inherited it from his father and grandfather.  I hold that such a man has no moral right to continue in business.  He should retire and give the other fellow a chance.”

“Why do you call him an aristocrat?” Mr. Merrick had enquired.

“Because his family is so ancient that it shames the ark itself.  I imagine his ancestors might have furnished Noah the lumber to build his ship.  In New York the ‘400’ all kowtow to Von Taer.”

“Seems to me he has the right to be a broker if he wants to,” asserted Mr. Merrick.

“The right; yes.  But, between us, Mr. Merrick, this society swell has no mental capacity to handle such an uncertain business.  He’s noted for doing unwarranted things.  To me it’s a marvel that Von Taer hasn’t shipwrecked the family fortunes long ago.  Luck has saved him, not foresight.”

That speech of a few weeks ago now seemed prophetic to John Merrick.  Within a few days the aristocratic broker had encountered financial difficulties and been forced to appeal to Mr. Merrick, to whom he obtained an introduction through a mutual friend.  Von Taer was doubtless solvent, for he controlled large means; but unless a saving hand was extended at this juncture his losses were sure to be severe, and might even cripple him seriously.