“Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?” his father asked. “He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit.”
“I know a man,” said young Quincy, “who is honest, conscientious, and a perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business. He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he might make some costly mistakes.”
“I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and you should handle it.”
“I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any money for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have a larger capital, father?”
“Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed money. The fellow who lends pays that.”
“If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?”
“Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever being repaid.”
“That's funny.”
“Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic almanac, and about as sensible.”
Quincy took up a pen and began writing.