"What will?" I asked.
"Going around and talking to our local magnates. They are all your social friends out at the country club. Let's see what your friends are worth to you," and he grinned one of his favourite grins.
"H'm," I said, studying the cable. "What have we got to put up to them?"
"Listen to Teddy," shouted Knowlton, chuckling. "Talking like a regular business man! You wouldn't have used that language six months ago."
"I am beginning to pick up a few scraps of the vernacular," I retorted, a little nettled. Knowlton grinned number two grin. He proceeded to lecture me on the present merits and future possibilities of our company. It was all to be put down in black and white for me to study, with what he called "the best talking points" underlined.
"Go after them hard," he advised at the conclusion. "Don't take 'no' for an answer, and don't be afraid of their questions. We are as promising-looking an outfit as there is in town. Why, they ought to swing this thing for us as a matter of local pride. We'll bring money to the place."
"Since we are making a fairly good thing of it as we stand, why not leave well enough alone?" I queried by way of final objection.
"My boy, it can't be done. If you try to stand still, you only slide down hill. It's a law of business. Get on or get out—that's our American jungle law. Besides, it's a question now of obeying the old man's orders."
"You mean my father?" I suggested.
Knowlton grinned: "I beg your pardon. It's our master's voice."