“They kin?”
“Why, you take a thousand dollars,” said Tuttle; “and you take and put it out at compound interest; jest leave it lay and go on about your business—why, it’ll pile up and pile up, you can’t stop it. You know how much it’d amount to in twenty-five years? More than a million dollars.”
“Whur all that million dolluhs come from?”
“It comes from the poor,” said Mr. Tuttle solemnly. “That’s the way all them rich men git their money, gougin’ the poor.”
“Well, suh,” Bojus inquired reasonably, “what about me? I like git rich, too. Whur’s some poor I kin go gouge? I’m willin’ to do the gougin’ if I kin git the money.”
“Money ain’t everything,” his friend reminded him. “Some day the people o’ this country’s goin’ to raise and take all that money away from them rich robbers. What right they got to it? That’s what I want to know. We’re goin’ to take it and divide it among the people that need it.”
Bojus laughed cheerfully. “Tell Bojus when you goin’ begin dividin’! He be on han’!”
“Why, anybody could have all the money he wants, any time,” Tuttle continued, rather inconsistently. “Anybody could.”
“How anybody goin’ git it?”
“I didn’t say anybody was goin’ to; I said anybody could.”