“We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time last year.” Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. “Will you smoke, Guv'nor?”
Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram, was returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement, gained possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his pocket.
“That'll even matters up a little, I guess,” he said. Mr. Strout scowled, but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing.
“Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in.”
“Don't trouble yourself to do that,” said Quincy. “I'll examine them at the bookkeeper's desk.”
“Oh, very well,” said Strout. “You'll find them O. K. But now's you're here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he ain't progressive. There's no crescendo to him. He wants to play in one key all the time. He's—”
Quincy interrupted, “What did you wish to say about the business? We'll drop personalities for the present, at least.”
“Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with more capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton, Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places, but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for buying in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time.”
“I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices. The other fellow has the same right to a living that we have.”
“Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?” said Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously.