“Very well, Tommy,” said Thompson, seriously. “Want your salary raised?”
“Not yet!” said Tommy. Impulsively in a burst of gratitude he held out his hand. Then he drew it back.
“Shake hands, anyhow,” said Thompson; and Tommy did.
“Mr. Thompson, I'll tell you—”
“Not much you won't!” interrupted Mr. Thompson. “Run along, sonny!”
CHAPTER X
THAT night after supper Tommy, who felt that his joy over the new car was almost too great to be strictly moral, told Bill all about it and saw Bill's flashing eyes at the thought of a car to experiment with, a lack that he had often bemoaned. Tommy thought Bill was entitled to some pleasure on his own account and, wishing to share his luck, he said, earnestly:
“I can't stand it any longer, Bill; you've simply got to take the fifty dollars. I'll lend it to you or give it to you, or we'll go in cahoots or on any basis you want; but if you don't invent my kerosene-carburetor I'll bust.”