Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

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64 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE. IT WAS A MARGIN CALL, FOR JAMES HAD BEEN SPECULATING. his holdings. Brought up in the Exchange atmosphere of Frederick Ware's home, used to hearing financial discussions from her early childhood, she understood at once the reason for James' despair. As clearly as she could, she explained the situation to the eager old darkey. "Law, honey," said Cyrus, evidently relieved; "I begun ter think Marse James was in sho' 'nough trouble; dat mebby yo' had done quarrelt, but 'taint nothin but money what's de matter !" "But, Cyrus, this is real trouble. James needs money immediately and I am afraid I can't help him, for I have nothing of my own." "Go long, honey !" answered Cyrus, "de gemman in our fam'ly dey don't take money from de ladies. I'se got plenty money fer Marse James. His pa gin us all er lot uv money when he sot us free, an' Marse James he give me wages what I ain't got no use fer ev'ry month. I puts hit all in de bank ter leave ter him when I die; but he kin have it now, ef dat's what's pesterin' him. I reckon I got most a million dollars by dis time." Incredulously Mabel opened the bank book he proudly handed her. It showed deposits to the old man's account of not a million but nearly a thousand dollars. "Cyrus," she said, confidingly, "if you want to give this money to your master, I believe it will be enough to keep his holdings for a while. Go down to the bank and draw out all that you have; then take it to the broker's office and put it to Mr. James TenBroek's account. You know where the office is?" "Yas, Mes Mabel, I been thar heaps uv times fer Marse James." "Good ! Hurry Cyrus, I will see father and find if he won't do something to help us. If we pull this thru, James can give you back twice what you had saved up." "I ain't takin' no 'count uv dat, Mes Mabel," answered the old man. "Hit's his money no matter what come. When ma old Massa, hes pa, died, I seys to myse'f, seys I, 'Cyrus gwine ter take keer uv dis chile like he was he -own,' an' I dun hit, Mes Mabel. We gwine ter save him sho; and he awalk