"I thought you were broke."
"Oh, they can't keep a good man down. The friend I went to see insisted that I take a dollar he had that wasn't workin'. Don't suppose I'll be with you for dinner, either, as I've got an engagement at about that hour. But read that article."
Hiram obeyed.
It told of a ditch digger that had recently been enlarged from the inventor's model, and which, at the first trial, was proving a decided success in moving earth more rapidly than any previously invented. With only his model to prove his claims, the inventor had managed to sell all the stock; and from the very beginning the operations would be carried out by a closed corporation. The question before the directors was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade.
To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he looked up at Tweet for an explanation.
"I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him. "My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em."
"Really! Is it worth anything to you?"
"I'm holdin' it' at eight thousand five hundred. It'll be worth double that in a year or two."
"Eight thousand five hundred!" Hiram stared unbelievingly at Tweet. "Why don't you sell it, then?"
"Didn't I say it would be worth double that amount in a year or two?"