“Yes, but how will I feel if nothing comes out of it?” said Bill, gloomily.
“What about my own feelings, you pin-head! I'll feel a thousand times worse than you, if that's any comfort to you. I've mapped out my selling campaign. Why, I've been selling a thousand kerosene-cars a day for two weeks!”
“Yes, but—”
“You can't be an inventor. All inventors are dead sure of getting there if you only give them time and money. And here I'm giving you capital and from four to five Sundays a month!”
“Don't be funny!”
“In the event of honorable defeat I'll sell their measly gasoline-cars instead of our kerosene wonders, so I'm all right. Will you take the money, Bill?”
“Yes!” shouted Bill, and frowned furiously. “By heck! I just will!”
“Right! Are you sure you can get the generator for the money?”
“Yes, I've got him down to fifty. We'll split even on the patent.”
“And your work?” said Tommy, shaking his head.