“But there would be the danger of losing,” suggested Mrs. Estabrook.

“That danger is very small, mother.  I am in a situation to know all about the course of stocks.  I wouldn’t advise another to speculate, unless he has some friend in the Stock Exchange; but for me it is perfectly safe.”

“Pray be careful, Willis.”

“Oh, yes.  I am sure to be.  By the way, mother, haven’t you got some money in government bonds?”

“A little,” answered Mrs. Estabrook, cautiously.

“How much, now?”

“About a thousand dollars.”

“Let me manage it for you, and I will make it two thousand inside of a month.”

Mrs. Estabrook had a large share of acquisitiveness, but she had also a large measure of caution, which she had inherited from her Scotch ancestry.

“No, Willis,” she said, shaking her head, “I can’t take any risk.  This money it has taken me years to save.  It is the sole dependence I have for my old age, and I can’t run the risk of losing it.”

“But two thousand dollars will be better than one, mother.  Just let me tell you what happened to a customer of ours:  He had above five hundred dollars in the savings bank, drawing four per cent interest—­only twenty dollars a year.  He had a friend in the Stock Exchange who took charge of it, bought stocks judiciously on a margin, then reinvested, and now, after three months, how much do you think it amounts to?”

“How much?” asked the housekeeper, with interest.

“Six thousand five hundred dollars—­just thirteen times as much!” answered Willis, glibly.

This story, by the way, was all a fabrication, intended to influence his stepmother.  Mrs. Estabrook never doubted Ford’s statement, but her instinctive caution saved her from falling into the trap.

“It looks tempting, Willis,” she said, “but I don’t dare to take the risk.”  Ford was deeply disappointed, but did not betray it.

“It is for you to decide,” said he, carelessly, then drifted to other subjects.

Ten minutes later he pressed his hand upon his breast, while his features worked convulsively.  “I believe I am sick,” he said.

“What can I do for you, my dear son?” asked the housekeeper, in alarm.

“If you have a glass of brandy!” gasped Willis.

“I will go downstairs and get some,” she said, hurriedly.

No sooner had she left the room than Willis sprang to his feet, locked the door, then went to the bureau, unlocked the upper drawer—­he had a key in his pocket which fitted the lock and, thrusting in his hand, drew out a long envelope containing one five-hundred-dollar government bond and five bonds of one hundred dollars each, which he thrust into his side pocket.  Then, closing the drawer, he unlocked the door of the room, and when his step-mother returned he threw himself back in his chair, groaning.  He took the glass of brandy the housekeeper brought him, and, after a few minutes, professing himself much better, left the house.