“I think nothing whatever of it!” snapped Mr. Johnson.
“What is your chief ground of objection?” Bobby wanted to know.
Again Mr. Johnson glared quickly at Mr. Applerod.
“Tell him,” insisted that gentleman with an outward wave of both hands, expressive of his intense desire to have every secret of his own soul and of everybody’s else laid bare.
“I will,” said Johnson. “Your father, a dozen times in my own hearing, refused to have anything to do with the scheme.”
Bobby turned accusing eyes upon Applerod, who, though red of face, was still strong of assertion.
“Mr. Burnit never declined on any other grounds than that he already had too many irons in the fire,” he declared. “Tell him that, too, Johnson!”
“It was only his polite way of putting it,” retorted Mr. Johnson.
“John Burnit was noted for his polite way of putting his business conclusions,” snapped Applerod in return, whereat Bobby smiled with gleeful reminiscence, and Mr. Johnson smiled grimly, albeit reluctantly, and Mr. Applerod smiled triumphantly.
“I can see the governor doing it,” laughed Bobby, and dismissed the matter. “Mr. Johnson, as a start in business we may as well turn this study into a temporary office. Take this check down to the Commercial Bank, please, and open an account. You already have power of attorney for my signature. Procure a small set of books and open them. Make out for me against this account at the Commercial a check for ten thousand. Mr. Applerod, kindly reduce your swamp proposition to paper and let me have it by to-morrow. I’ll not promise that I will do anything with it, but it would be only fair to examine it.”