“I got some capital, like I told you. An’ I could get plenty more if I wasn’t so afraid o’—” He paused, and seemed to envisage afresh some subtle and merciless foe. Mrs. Mar’s sharp eyes pecked him all over. If they had left a mark wherever they had been, Blumpitty would have presented no surface the size of a cent that was not pitted as with virulent smallpox. It might well have inspired confidence that he bore up as well as he did.
“What is it you’re ‘afraid’ of?” demanded Mrs. Mar.
“Losin’ personal control. But I’m all right s’ long ’s I keep hold o’ fifty-one per cent. o’ the stock.”
“Why fifty-one per cent.?” She must understand this.
“So’s to have the decidin’ vote. So’s I can do the directin’ myself. Watch it”—his pale eyes brooded—“an’ manage it, an’ make a reel success of it.” You got the impression that the scheme was bound up not only with his fortune but with his pride. “If I’m at the head o’ the thing I can see that the ’riginal investors don’t get froze out by the fy-nance-eers.”
“Well, haven’t you kept fifty-one per cent. of the stock?”
“Yes, I got more’n that now. Blumpitty & Co.’s only jest started.”
Mrs. Mar had a moment’s thrill out of the sensation of being there “at the start.” But she sternly repressed any glimmer of betrayal. “I suppose,” she said, with an intention of irony, “that you’re ready to let in a few more private subscribers?”
“I’m in favor o’ lettin’ in one or two.” He fell into thought undisturbed by Mrs. Mar’s silent pursuit, pecking here, pecking there. “I wus thinkin’ I’d like your daughter to have somethin’.”
“Oh, my daughter’s putting all she has into her trip.”