At your service as always,
The Tutter Canning Company,
Foreman Pennykorn, President.
You can see how unfair the letter was. It made out that our pickles had poisoned the people, which wasn’t so. From start to finish it was nothing but a sort of lie.
“Poppy,” says I, “I guess we’re done for.”
But while the leader was worried, as his face showed, he had no thought of giving up.
“It could be worse, Jerry.”
“Pickles and debts,” I further sweat. “They’re going to smother us.”
“How many kegs have we in stock?”
“One hundred and twenty.”
“That’s twelve hundred gallons. They’re easily worth one-fifty a gallon. So that gives us eighteen hundred dollars in quick assets.”
“We aren’t talking about assets,” says I. “We’re talking about pickles.”