“The same,” he admitted.
“Mr. Merrill,” propounded Wallingford, “how would you like to borrow from ten dollars to five thousand, for four years, without interest and without security?”
Mr. Merrill’s eyes narrowed, and the flesh upon his face became quite firm.
“Not if I have to pay money for it,” he announced, and the conversation would have ended right there had it not been for Wallingford’s engaging personality, a personality so large and comprehensive that it made Mr. Merrill reflect that, though this jovial stranger was undoubtedly engineering a “skin game,” he was quite evidently “no piker,” and was, therefore, entitled to courteous consideration.
“What you have to pay won’t break you,” said Wallingford, laughing, and presented a neatly engraved card conveying merely the name of The People’s Mutual Bond and Loan Company, the fact that it was incorporated for a hundred thousand dollars, and that the capital was all paid in. “A loan bond,” added Mr. Wallingford, “costs you one dollar, and the payments thereafter are a dollar and a quarter a week.”
Mr. Merrill nodded as he looked at the card.
“I see,” said he. “It’s one of those pleasant little games, I suppose, where the first man in gets the money of the next dozen, and the last five thousand hold the bag.”
“I knew you’d guess wrong,” said Wallingford cheerfully. “The plan’s entirely different. Everybody gets a chance. With every payment you sign a loan application and your receipt is numbered, giving you four numbered receipts in the month. Every month one-fourth of the loan fund is taken out for a grand annual distribution, and the balance is distributed in monthly loans.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Merrill, the firmness of his facial muscles relaxing and the cold look in his eyes softening. “A lottery? Now I’m listening.”
“Well,” replied Wallingford, smiling, “we can’t call it that, you know.”