The Financier / Финансист

His father foresaw this, was grieved, and was hoping some young man would eventually appear who would be interested in the business, handle it in the same spirit in which it had been handled, and who would not crowd his son out.

Then came young Cowperwood, spoken of to him by Seneca Davis. He looked him over critically. Yes, this boy might do, he thought. There was something easy and sufficient about him. He did not appear to be in the least flustered or disturbed. He knew how to keep books, he said, though he knew nothing of the details of the grain and commission business.

It was interesting to him. He would like to try it.

“I like that fellow,” Henry Waterman confided to his brother the moment Frank had gone with instructions to report the following morning. “There’s something to him. He’s the cleanest, briskest, most alive thing that’s walked in here in many a day.”

“Yes,” said George, a much leaner and slightly taller man, with dark, blurry, reflective eyes and a thin, largely vanished growth of brownish-black hair which contrasted strangely with the egg-shaped whiteness of his bald head.

“Yes, he’s a nice young man. It’s a wonder his father don’t take him in his bank.”

“Well, he may not be able to,” said his brother. “He’s only the cashier there.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, we’ll give him a trial. I bet anything he makes good. He’s a likely-looking youth.”

Henry got up and walked out into the main entrance looking into Second Street.

The cool cobble pavements, shaded from the eastern sun by the wall of buildings on the east—of which his was a part—the noisy trucks and drays, the busy crowds hurrying to and fro, pleased him. He looked at the buildings over the way—all three and four stories, and largely of gray stone and crowded with life—and thanked his stars that he had originally located in so prosperous a neighborhood. If he had only brought more property at the time he bought this!

“I wish that Cowperwood boy would turn out to be the kind of man I want,” he observed to himself, meditatively.

“He could save me a lot of running these days.”

Curiously, after only three or four minutes of conversation with the boy, he sensed this marked quality of efficiency. Something told him he would do well.

ChapterВ IV

The appearance of Frank Cowperwood at this time was, to say the least, prepossessing and satisfactory.