"You've got the makings of a polo-man in
you," decreed the great man. "Where are you playing?"
"I've never really played. Just practiced."
"Then you ought to be with us. Where's Densmore? We'll put you up and
have you in by the next meeting."
"A reporter in The Retreat!" protested Kirke who had proffered the bet.
"Why not?" snapped old Poultney Masters. "Got any objections?"
Since the making or marring of his fortunes, like those of hundreds of
other men, lay in the pudgy hollow of the financier's hand, poor Kirke
had no objections which he could not and did not at once swallow. The
subject of the flattering offer had, however.
"I'm much obliged," said he. "But I couldn't join this club. Can't
afford it."
"You can't afford not to. It's a chance not many young fellows from
nowhere get."
"Perhaps you don't know what a reporter's earnings are, Mr. Masters."
The rest of the group had drifted away, in obedience, Banneker
suspected, to some indication given by Masters which he had not
perceived.
"You won't be a reporter long. Opportunities will open out for a young
fellow of your kind."
"What sort of opportunities?" inquired Banneker curiously.
"Wall Street, for example."
"I don't think I'd like the game.
Pages:
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381