"Don't worry. Business will get after us pretty soon."
"But time is flying."
"Time is doing just what I want it to do. It takes time for plans to develop. It takes time for seed to grow. I started business getting after us Sunday morning at the First Presbyterian Church in Meadeville. I prepared some of the seed on the way out here. I began sowing the evening we arrived. I fanned the flame with a big puff,"—he held up the paper with the interview in it. "Jingo, that's funny. I did n't mean it literally."
"Your metaphors are fearfully mixed, Dearie."
"Does n't matter. They're graphic."
"But they're not clear to me."
"They are to me, which is enough," said Skinner, with a suggestion of finality.
Honey pouted reproachfully at the snub, and Skinner's heart instantly smote him.
"Don't worry, Honey. It's all right." He paused. "Now, I'm going to make a prophecy." He pointed impressively at her with his forefinger. "And you mark my words! Things will begin to happen right after the Wilkinson dinner."
"That's Sunday morning."