“What drawing?”
“The loans.”
“You don’t mean to say that you’re going to conduct this as a lottery?” protested Wallingford, shocked and even distressed.
“Sh! Don’t use that word,” cautioned Turner. “Not even among ourselves. You might use it in the wrong place some time.”
“Why not use the word?” Wallingford indignantly wanted to know. “That’s what you’re preparing to do! I told you in the first place that this was not by any means to be considered as a lottery; that it was not to have any of the features of a lottery. Moreover, I shall not permit it to be conducted as a lottery!”
Doc Turner leaned against the side of the big wooden wheel and stared at Wallingford in consternation.
“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “Have you gone crazy, or what?”
“Sane enough that I don’t intend to be connected with a lottery! I have conscientious scruples about it.”
“May I ask, then, how you propose to decide these so-called loans?” inquired Turner, with palm-rubbing agitation.