At the end of the month from the day of their engagement Margaretta
Riston was a happy young bride.

One week after their marriage, Mr. Smith entered the room of his friend Mr. Perkins, with a pale, agitated countenance.

“What in the world has happened, Smith?” the friend asked, in alarm.

“Haven’t you heard the news?”

“No.  What news?”

“The United States Bank has failed!”

“Oh, no!”

“It is true.  And every dollar of Margaretta’s money is locked up there!”

“Really that is dreadful!  I would sell the stock immediately for what it will bring, if I were you.”

“So I wish to.  But neither my wife nor her aunt are willing.  And so soon after our marriage I do not like to use positive measures.”

“But the case is urgent.  Delay may sweep from you every dollar.”

“So I fear.  What shall I do then?  To have the prize in hand, and find it thus suddenly escaping, is enough to drive me mad!”

“Sell in spite of them.  That’s my advice.”

“I will!”

And the half crazy young fortune-hunter hurried away.  In a few minutes after, he entered the room where sat his wife and her aunt in gloomy and oppressed silence.

“The best thing we can do, Margaretta, I am satisfied, is to sell,” he said, taking a chair beside his wife.  “The stock is falling every hour, and it is the opinion of competent judges that it will not be worth five dollars in a week.”

“And other competent judges are of a very different opinion,” replied the aunt.  “Mr. Day, who was Margaretta’s guardian, has just been here, and says that we must not sell by any means; that after the panic is over the stock will go up again.  The bank, he assures us, is fully able to meet every dollar, and still have a large surplus.  It would be folly then to sell, especially when there is no urgent demand for the money.”

“There is more urgent demand than you know of,” Mr. Smith said to himself with bitter emphasis.  He added aloud,—­

“Mr. Day may know something about the matter; but I am sure he is mistaken in the calculation he makes.  It is said this morning, by those who know, that the assets of the bank are principally in worthless stocks, and that the shareholders will never get a cent.  My advice, then, is to sell immediately; a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

But both the wife and aunt objected; and so soon after marriage he felt that positive opposition would come with a bad grace.

Steadily day after day, the stock went down, down, down—­and day after day Mr. Smith persisted in having it sold.  The fact was, duns now met him at every turn, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he could prevent his wife and her aunt from guessing at the nature of the many calls of his “particular friends.”  Money he must have, or he could not keep out of prison long, and the only chance for his obtaining money was in the sale of his wife’s stock.  But at the rates for which it was now selling, the whole proceeds would not cover the claims against him.  At last, when the stock had fallen to twenty dollars, Mrs. Smith yielded to her husband’s earnest persuasions, and handed him over the certificates of her stock, that he might dispose of them to the best possible advantage.