"Exactly," said Jock, "but ye didna do it—and knowing ye ought to isn't worth a piper's squeal—unless ye do it.
"Then," he went on, "ye hae the farm—or rather ye haven't, since Blickens holds the mortgage on it—and makin' ye pay ten per cent. interest as weel.
"So your quick assets are practically nothing. And here ye are, Black, wi' no quick assets—and increasing liabilities (I blushed a bit at that, for I knew he was referring to Betty) ye go and add to your difficulties by adding a potential liability o' five hundred dollars."
"That's nonsense," I retorted. "Friday's as good as gold for it, and I've not the least chance of having to meet the note."
"That's what they aw' say until—" this from Jock.
"And suppose," I said, "I did have to pay it, I guess I could with all the profit I am making. You, yourself, worked it out and should know."
"Profit? Profit?" said Jock. "I didna say ye had any profit. I said the beesiness showed a profit, which is a horse o' anither color."
"How so?" I asked.
"Profit is no' made 'till goods are sold and paid for," explained Jock. "Your accounts receivable are only worth the value o' the creditors—and some ye hae are nae good. Your beesiness shows a paper profit, but it has all gone into stock. If ye hae tae realize on it, quickly, it would shrink alarmingly in value. In fact, with a forced sale ye would show a big loss on your beesiness venture instead o' the paper gain ye show noo."
I had never realized this before, but the way Jock explained it made it clear to me, and it certainly worried me, for I had been feeling contented and satisfied that everything was going along nicely, and here came Jock, who proved to me that all my profit was potential.