“I am going to New York.”

“What for?”

“A little business,” Grant answered, evasively.  Tom was the last person he felt inclined to take into his confidence.

“Goin’ to try to get a place?”

“If any good chance offers I shall accept it—­that is, if father and mother are willing.”

“Let’s take a seat together—­that’s what I’m going for myself.”

CHAPTER VI

GRANT GETS INTO UNEXPECTED TROUBLE

Tom Calder was not the companion Grant would have chosen, but there seemed no good excuse for declining his company.  He belonged to a rather disreputable family living in the borders of the village.  If this had been all, it would not have been fair to object to him, but Tom himself bore not a very high reputation.  He had been suspected more than once of stealing from his school companions, and when employed for a time by Mr. Tudor, in the village store, the latter began to miss money from the till; but Tom was so sly that he had been unable to bring the theft home to him.  However, he thought it best to dispense with his services.

“What kind of a situation are you goin’ to try for?” asked Tom, when they were fairly on their way.

“I don’t know.  They say that beggars mustn’t be choosers.”

“I want to get into a broker’s office if I can,” said Tom.

“Do you consider that a very good business?” asked Grant.

“I should say so,” responded Tom, emphatically.

“Do they pay high wages?”

“Not extra, but a feller can get points, and make something out of the market.”

“What’s that?” asked Grant, puzzled.

“Oh, I forgot.  You ain’t used to the city,” responded Tom, emphatically.  “I mean, you find out when a stock is going up, and you buy for a rise.”

“But doesn’t that take considerable money?” asked Grant, wondering how Tom could raise money to buy stocks.

“Oh, you can go to the bucket shops,” answered Tom.

“But what have bucket shops to do with stocks?” asked Grant, more than ever puzzled.

Tom burst into a loud laugh.

“Ain’t you jolly green, though?” he ejaculated.

Grant was rather nettled at this.

“I don’t see how I could be expected to understand such talk,” he said, with some asperity.

“That’s where it is—­you can’t,” said Tom.  “It’s all like A, B, C to me, and I forgot that you didn’t know anything about Wall Street.  A bucket shop is where you can buy stock in small lots, putting down a dollar a share as margin.  If stocks go up, you sell out on the rise, and get back your dollar minus commission,”

“Suppose they go down?”

“Then you lose what you put up.”

“Isn’t it rather risky?”

“Of course there’s some risk, but if you have a good point there isn’t much.”