Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald - F. Scott Fitzgerald - Страница 162

As Sylvester left the cigar store, Waldron Crosby followed him out, and turning off Fifth Avenue down a cross street entered a brokerage office. A plump man with nervous hands rose and hailed him.

“Hello, Waldron.”

“Hello, Potter—I just dropped in to hear the worst.”

The plump man frowned.

“We’ve just got the news,” he said.

“Well, what is it. Another drop?”

“Closed at seventy-eight. Sorry, old boy.”

“Whew!”

“Hit pretty hard?”

“Cleaned out!”

The plump man shook his head, indicating that life was too much for him, and turned away.

Crosby sat there for a moment without moving. Then he rose, walked into Potter’s private office and picked up the phone.

“Gi’me Larchmont 838.”

In a moment he had his connection.

“Mrs. Crosby there?”

A man’s voice answered him.

“Yes; this you, Crosby? This is Doctor Shipman.”

“Dr. Shipman?” Crosby’s voice showed sudden anxiety.

“Yes—I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. The situation’s changed and we expect the child tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. Everything’s O.K. But you’d better come right out.”

“I will. Good-bye.”

He hung up the receiver and started out the door, but paused as an idea struck him. He returned, and this time called a Manhattan number.

“Hello, Donny, this is Crosby.”

“Hello, there, old boy. You just caught me; I was going——”

“Say, Donny, I want a job right away, quick.”

“For whom?”

“For me.”

“Why, what’s the——”

“Never mind. Tell you later. Got one for me?”

“Why, Waldron, there’s not a blessed thing here except a clerkship. Perhaps next——”

“What salary goes with the clerkship?”

“Forty—say forty-five a week.”

“I’ve got you. I start tomorrow.”

“All right. But say, old man——”

“Sorry, Donny, but I’ve got to run.”

Crosby hurried from the brokerage office with a wave and a smile at Potter. In the street he took out a handful of small change and after surveying it critically hailed a taxi.

“Grand Central—quick!” he told the driver.