She laid her palm to his lips.
"'Shh-h-h! You don't nothing of the kind. It's not conceit, it's work is going to get my boy his raise."
"If they'd listen to me, that department would—"
"'Shh-h! J. G. Hoffheimer don't have to get pointers from Jimmie Batch how to run his department store."
"There you go again. What's J. G. Hoffheimer got that I 'ain't? Luck and a few dollars in his pocket that, if I had in mine, would—
"It was his own grit put those dollars there, Jimmie. Just put it out of your head that it's luck makes a self-made man."
"Self-made! You mean things just broke right for him. That's two-thirds of this self-made business."
"You mean he buckled right down to brass tacks, and that's what my boy is going to do."
"The trouble with this world is it takes money to make money. Get your first few dollars, I always say, no matter how, and then when you're on your feet scratch your conscience if it itches. That's why I said in the beginning, if we had took that hundred and ninety furniture money and staked it on—"
"Jimmie, please—please! You wouldn't want to take a girl's savings of years and years to gamble on a sporty cigar proposition with a card-room in the rear. You wouldn't, Jimmie. You ain't that kind of fellow. Tell me you wouldn't, Jimmie."