Atlanta Daily World

Miss Gertrude Green, Chapter 15

Lawyer

Investment class came up with her coffee and stood next to Jane and Mrs. Hope.

Miss Green agreed that it was too bad class was ending.

"Maybe," she smiled. "there's a graduate investment class we could join!"

Turning to Jane, Mrs. Hope said, "You're so studious and all. Why don't you form a class and teach it?"

Despite the fact that her teammate was known for going overboard about an idea, Jane smiled happily.

Suddenly, however, she countered with an inspiration. "Why don't we," Jane leaned forward in her excitement, "form an investment club?

You know, meet once a month and really invest?"

Both Miss Green and Mrs. Hope were electrified. The idea was too wonderful to let drop.

Before they'd returned to class certain decisions had been taken. Since Miss Green was busy all day in her office, Mrs. Hope and Jane offered to divide up the telephoning and present the idea to their classmates.

Thus it was that the next day before evening, they had organized a club, sixteen in number.

Like the class, the club boasted women of distinction.

To everybody's surprise, even Mrs. Henry Hayden-Critchfield, of millinery fame, cooed "How delightful! How really elegant."

She pointed out, "Ten years ago a canasta club was the thing. Now it's investments!"

It was agreed all around that the first meeting would be at the home of Mrs. Stephens on Twin Peaks.

Mrs. Stephens thought this beginning would be peculiarly appropriate to her ambitions. A tiny wren of a woman with a deep voice and aggressive black eyes, she was well-to-do and clearly expected—by virtue of her money and natural qualifications—to be elected president.

But something untoward happened during the very last class meeting to sidetrack Mrs. Stephens' presidential ambitions, and she was to hold this eternally against Mr. Petry.

IN FINE FETTLE for his last class, and determined to make one final large impression upon pupils he hoped to attach as clients, Mr. Petry passed around mimeographed copies of the ten students' stock lists that had made the greatest gains since last October. In fact, a little sheepishly, he admitted he passed around the only lists that showed actual gains; all the rest—in a class of 40—showed losses, mostly minor except for one ghastly slump of 50 per cent.

It is a happy thing," said the teacher, shuddering, "that such a dip is purely imaginary."

Naturally, he did not say who had pulled this extraordinary blooper, but Jane, with her practiced eye, thought she could tell.

Then came the big moment. Reaching behind his desk, Mr. Petry brought forth an eye-catching silver and lavender package. Stepping forward, he held up a sheet of paper upon which, with high visibility, he had scrawled a large red "A."

Smiling benignly, he announced, "Mrs. Stephens' portfolio of eight stocks has nice diversification and shows a gain of 15 per cent. This is excellent indeed."

Everybody clapped and Mrs. Stephens half rose from her chair to go claim the prize. But Mr. Petry, possibly out of a subconscious desire to award it to Mrs. Stephens as a glittering future customer, had really made a booboo. Recovering awkwardly, he quieted the girls and signalled that the climax was yet to come.

"Mrs. Stephens placed second," he hastily explained, "and Miss Gertrude Green is third with six stocks and a splendid gain of 13.9 per cent." Mr. Petry asked Miss Green to take a bow.

Then he cleared his throat. There is among us," he said, "that rara avis in financial circles—a successful speculator. It happens that the most unusual and irregular paper handed in is also the only one whose gain was greater than Mrs. Stephens'."

Making a steeple with his fingers, Mr. Petry confessed he had wrestled over the decision.

"I have decided," he announced, "to leave the final decision up to the vote of the class. I want to be fair. But should this pupil be permitted to win first prize?"

The class looked quietly torn. "True," he went on. "During a sluggish, adverse market, this investor did better than 35 per cent. A remarkable achievement."

The class gasped and, in its suspense, began looking around to guess the winner. Mr. Petry held up his hand for attention.

"But," he intoned, "this pupil violated every principle of sound investment I have tried to teach. Her so-called list contains a single stock."

At this, Mrs. Hope popped up in her seat. She looked at Jane, nudged her so hard Jane winced.

Then, quite audibly, she shouted, "I thought you were kidding!"

Loftily ignoring the interruption, Mr. Petry repeated, as if to persuade himself, "A single stock." Then he rushed on.

"There was no effort to achieve diversification. No attention was paid to corporate size, history or distinction. Finally, dividends were either ignored or forgotten. In brief, I am afraid this pupil was merely lucky in finding a four-leaf clover. Very lucky."

Wally Googins, bored with all the moralizing and pretty sure he could guess the winner, suddenly began whooping it up.

"Speech!" he called. "Speech from the winn-ah!"

Joining his mood, the girls began to applaud. Encouraged, Wally took to his feet and addressed Mr. Petry. "Professor," he said, "I move that we elect this genius of finance winner by acclamation." A fresh burst of applause broke over Mr. Petry's head.

Obviously taken aback and conscious of having overcooked his moral, Mr. Petry thoroughly straightened his tie, stepped from behind his lectern, and strode toward the winner.

He beckoned to Jane to rise. While Mrs. Hope screamed, "Bravo! Aunt Jane!" and while Wally whistled, Mr. Petry gracefully presented Jane to the class.

Of course, she was not surprised; she had awaited this moment for months with Olympian serenity. But still, in the flush of accepting a paper grudgingly marked "A+", she turned totally, exasperatingly shy. She blushed, she stammered, she even put up a show of amazement in receiving the package.

The prize itself seemed pre-destined. It was a handsome leather notebook for her stock record—firmly alphabetized.

Celebrating later with Wally over her beloved Irish Coffee, Jane borrowed his pen to make the first entries in her new stock book.

Wally had not known of her purchase of Lone Star Electronics.

Then a terrible thought struck her and she hastily began figuring something on a paper napkin.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear." She began wringing her hands. "Oh, Wally, I won the prize dishonestly. What can I do?"

"How come?" Wally said.

"Don't ever, ever tell Mr. Petry," she begged. "The awful truth is that I actually bought Lone Star Electronics before the purchase date I put on my paper for him. I just imagined that purchase date for him."

"So what?"

"Well, look." Jane was almost in tears as she held up the figures on the napkin. "My gain is actually 50 per cent, not 35, as he thought."

"Women!" Wally hooted. "You didn't lie over the amount you'd gained. You lied under. Don't you see? You shoulda won two prizes!"

Jane was quickly comforted, especially when Wally talked on.

"It should ease your grief somewhat," he said, "to think of what the Countess is going to do. Besides, you already have your 50 per cent gain in Lone Star. Not bad. Not bad."

"Mr. Ernst likes it too," Jane offered.

Wally's eyes widened. "You know him? August Ernst?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Jane tossed off casually. "He bought it for me."

Jane is going to have a meeting with the "Golden Girls" and get a tempting tip on the market. Continue the story here tomorrow.

Aunt Jane McPhipps and Her Baby Blue Chips. Published by Prentice-Hall Inc. by Frances V. Rummell. Distributed by King Features Syndicate.