“Say, you’re looking pretty prosperous, it seems to me, Bob,” said Ben, scrutinizing his chum closely as he reseated himself at the table.
“Think so?” smiled Bob.
“Yes. That’s a pretty fine suit you’re wearing.”
“One of my fine ones—oh, yes,” responded Bob, coolly. “Now then,” taking a last sup of tea, “thank you, Mrs. Hardy—and thank you, Ben.”
“What for?”
“That whistle idea of yours.”
“Eh?” exclaimed Ben with a start, instantly coupling the musical team downtown with the appearance of his friend.
“You see, I stopped over about the dividends,” explained Bob.
“Dividends?” repeated Ben, wonderingly.
“That’s the business proposition, exactly,” replied Bob, with an affected grand air. “That whistle of yours—well, the results first. See that?”