“I tell you,” he said to Cowperwood one morning, “this slavery agitation, if it doesn’t stop, is going to cause trouble.”

A negro slave belonging to a visitor from Cuba had just been abducted and set free, because the laws of Pennsylvania made freedom the right of any negro brought into the state, even though in transit only to another portion of the country, and there was great excitement because of it.  Several persons had been arrested, and the newspapers were discussing it roundly.

“I don’t think the South is going to stand for this thing.  It’s making trouble in our business, and it must be doing the same thing for others.  We’ll have secession here, sure as fate, one of these days.”  He talked with the vaguest suggestion of a brogue.

“It’s coming, I think,” said Cowperwood, quietly.  “It can’t be healed, in my judgment.  The negro isn’t worth all this excitement, but they’ll go on agitating for him—­emotional people always do this.  They haven’t anything else to do.  It’s hurting our Southern trade.”

“I thought so.  That’s what people tell me.”

He turned to a new customer as young Cowperwood went out, but again the boy struck him as being inexpressibly sound and deep-thinking on financial matters.  “If that young fellow wanted a place, I’d give it to him,” he thought.

Finally, one day he said to him:  “How would you like to try your hand at being a floor man for me in ’change?  I need a young man here.  One of my clerks is leaving.”

“I’d like it,” replied Cowperwood, smiling and looking intensely gratified.  “I had thought of speaking to you myself some time.”

“Well, if you’re ready and can make the change, the place is open.  Come any time you like.”

“I’ll have to give a reasonable notice at the other place,” Cowperwood said, quietly.  “Would you mind waiting a week or two?”

“Not at all.  It isn’t as important as that.  Come as soon as you can straighten things out.  I don’t want to inconvenience your employers.”

It was only two weeks later that Frank took his departure from Waterman & Company, interested and yet in no way flustered by his new prospects.  And great was the grief of Mr. George Waterman.  As for Mr. Henry Waterman, he was actually irritated by this defection.

“Why, I thought,” he exclaimed, vigorously, when informed by Cowperwood of his decision, “that you liked the business.  Is it a matter of salary?”

“No, not at all, Mr. Waterman.  It’s just that I want to get into the straight-out brokerage business.”

“Well, that certainly is too bad.  I’m sorry.  I don’t want to urge you against your own best interests.  You know what you are doing.  But George and I had about agreed to offer you an interest in this thing after a bit.  Now you’re picking up and leaving.  Why, damn it, man, there’s good money in this business.”

“I know it,” smiled Cowperwood, “but I don’t like it.  I have other plans in view.  I’ll never be a grain and commission man.”  Mr. Henry Waterman could scarcely understand why obvious success in this field did not interest him.  He feared the effect of his departure on the business.