“Ed Allison’s one of the smartest boys in New York,” he enthusiastically declared. “Did you ever see anybody as busy as he is?”
“He seems to be a very energetic man,” Gail assented, with a sudden remembrance of how busy Allison had always been.
“Gets anything he goes after,” Tim informed her, and screwed one of his many-puffed eyes into a wink; at which significant action Gail looked out at the motorman. “Never tells his plans to anybody, nor what he wants. Just goes and gets it.”
“That’s a successful way, I should judge,” she responded, now able to see the humour of Tim Corman’s volunteer mission, but a red spot beginning to dawn, nevertheless, in either cheek.
“Well, he’s square,” asserted Tim judicially. “Understand, he don’t care how he gets a thing just so he gets it, but if he makes you a promise he’ll keep it. That’s what I call square.”
Gail nodded. She had discerned that quality in Allison.
“What I like about him is that he always wins,” went on Tim. “Nobody in this town has ever passed him the prunes. Do you know what he did? He started with two miles of rust and four horse cars, and now he owns the whole works.”
Gail knitted her brows. She had heard something of this marvellous tale before, and it had interested her. She had been groping for an explanation of Allison’s tremendous force.
“That was a wonderful achievement. How did he accomplish it?”
“Made ’em get off and walk!” boasted Tim, with vast pride in the fact. “Any time Eddie run across a man that had a street car line, he choked it out of him. He’s a wizard.”