"Well, all we've got to do's to give him a block of stock—ain't it?"
"Question 's, how much?"
"Enough to hold him."
"But how much would that be?" Perkins insisted.
"I 'll have to feel him out."
"I guess you 're right." Perkins paused a bit,—then, "Well, Mac, the worm turned—you didn't head him off?"
"Who wants to head off such a worm? Let him turn! The more he turns the better for us! Do you know what his first turn meant in terms of cash? No? Just ring for Millard."
Millard was chief bookkeeper.
That night, as Skinner sipped his second demi-tasse, he looked across the table at his beautiful wife, who was assiduously studying an automobile catalogue. The suggestion it conveyed gave Skinner a touch of apprehension. But the aforesaid touch lasted only a moment. He banished it and all other cares by making the following entry in his little book:—
| Dress-Suit Account | |
| Debit | Credit |
A one-third interest in | |