Without removing his interlocked hands from their comfortable resting-place in plain sight, he slowly twirled his thumbs some three times, and then stopped.
"Yes, I think I shall," he said.
"About how much?" Miss Westlake wanted to know.
"Oh, about twenty-five thousand."
"Who's to get it?"
"Why, I thought I'd divide it between Billy and you."
Miss Westlake put her hand on her father's arm.
"Say, pop, give it to me, please," she pleaded. "Billy can take the next stock you buy, or I'll let him have some of my other in exchange."
Mr. Westlake surveyed his daughter out of a pair of fish-gray eyes without turning his head.
"You seem to be especially interested in this stock. You asked about it yesterday and Sunday and one day last week."