Jack’s convivial spirits were quite willing. He took the glass, filled it, and laughingly said: “What is good for the devil, applies to his imp.” Then he drained the glass and again laughed.
Rutley joined in. “You make me blush! Did you say your left foot tickled?”
“Yes!”
“You will change domiciles. What do you say to secretary-treasurer of the Securities Investment Association?”
“What? Resurrect the old S. I. A.?” Jack replied, and he stared at Rutley with amazement.
“Yes! Thorpe and Harris put us out of business. Why not use their ‘simoleons’ to start up again?” And he chuckled with evident satisfaction.
“Agreed, Phil! Start her up with a full page ad in a Sunday paper, eh? Ha, ha, ha, ha—a damned good thing.”
“Precisely! Ahem,” coughed Rutley. “We are pleased to announce that our former fellow townsmen, Mr. Philip Rutley and Mr. Jack Shore have returned very wealthy.”
“And were received with open arms,” added Jack, and he laughed. “Damned good joke, Phil; damned good joke. Have one on that!” And he turned and picked up bottle and glass from the table and offered them to his colleague.
Rutley always maintained a dignified bearing, yet his manners were quite unconventional, and suave, and easy, and it must be understood that neither of them on this occasion became boisterous. He took the proffered bottle and glass, poured liquor in the glass, and after setting the bottle on the table, said: “Thirty days later, a-hem! We congratulate the stockholders of the reorganized Securities Investment Association on the able and efficient management of your officers, Manager Philip Rutley and Secretary-Treasurer Jack Shore.” He then drained the glass and handed it to Jack.