Macgowan puffed for a moment in silence, nodding thoughtfully. Then he glanced up.
"You know there's a meeting of the Consolidated directors next week. Instruct me about that note of yours—whether to renew or take it up."
"What note?"
"Covered by the twenty-five thousand in Food Products' paper. You borrowed ten thousand from Consolidated, if you remember, on behalf of the Armstrong Company, and turned the money over to Deming."
"Oh, that!" Armstrong thought for a moment. "Why, I'll renew the loan to Food Products for another three months—to pay me now would rather handicap them. No use taking up the paper from Consolidated until Food Products can make good. Suppose you renew for three months—or better make it four months. Then Food Products will be on its feet."
Macgowan nodded.
"I'll tell Jimmy Wren, and if Findlater objects we'll show him who runs the voting Trust. By the way, you people going to be in town over Christmas, or not?"
"No, we'll be in Evansville. Dorothy's folks are going to Europe right after the holidays, and we'll spend Christmas with them, then bring 'em East. Christmas in Evansville listens good, Mac!" Armstrong's rare smile leaped out. "Real juleps, remember 'em? And the kind of turkey that isn't grown around here. And 'possum. And ladies with the Kentucky slur to their tongues—the soft slur that leaves mighty few bachelors in those parts! Better come along with us, old man. What say?"
Macgowan shook his head.
"Thanks, but I can't. Deming isn't doing anything?"