“Hello, Tommy! I thought you were in New York,” said Thompson. He did not offer to shake hands, but that merely made Tommy feel that he really had not been away from Dayton at all. It, therefore, pushed New York at least five thousand miles eastward.
“Well, I got the check,” began Tommy, very calmly, as though it were nothing unusual.
But Thompson did not smile at the boyish pose. He asked, quickly, “Not checks?” and emphasized the plural.
“The stock will be apportioned later,” explained Tommy, hastily, realizing that Thompson had intended him to interest several people. “They are all friends, sir.”
“Tell me all about it,” said Thompson. And Tommy did. In order not to have to explain at all what he could not explain in full, he did not mention his father's participation.
“Well, Tommy,” Mr. Thompson spoke musingly, “you are a lucky boy. Guard against it. Try to feel that you must earn your successes, even if you don't have to work as hard as other men. Otherwise, they will mean nothing to you. And now what do you propose to do?'
“Get a receipt for the money. The stock is to be made out to John B. Kendrick.”
“Go to Holland and tell him what you want done. If you have no other plans—” He looked inquiringly at Tommy.
“No, sir,” hastily said Tommy.
“Your job is still Door Opener.”