“You’re in the same line that I am, I understand,” said Justin, who had been eating while the other talked.
“Why, yes, you might call it that, I guess both machines started in Connecticut. A cousin of mine owned one, he said Warford stole his idea and got it patented first—I don’t know. When he died he left me what money he had, and I took up the concern. I’ve got a Yankee side to me as well as a Southern side; sometimes I get tuckered out tryin’ to combine ’em.”
“You say that trade is looking up now?” asked Justin.
“Well, yes, it is. The public is beginning to learn the value of time as recorded by the timoscript.” His eyes twinkled. “Our machine is put together better than the Warford. I feel it my duty to say that, Mr. Alexander. It’s simpler, for one thing—there ain’t so many little cogs to catch and get out of order. No complex mechanism; a child can run it—that’s what my circulars say. I believe in advertising, same as you; I don’t object to your booming trade. The more people there are, now, who know there is a time-machine, the more there’ll be to find they’ve had a long-felt want for one, no matter what you call it. And—you shouldn’t hurry over your luncheon so, Mr. Alexander,” for Justin had thrown down his napkin and was rising.
“I’ve got to be back at the office by two,” said Justin, glancing at the clock, which showed five minutes of the hour.
“Oh, you can walk it in three minutes; but of course you’re not down to that yet. I’m glad to have met up with you, sir, and I hope to see you often. I reckon this town’s big enough for two of a kind.”
“Thank you,” said Justin, glad to escape. He had been telling himself during the conversation that he would take care to avoid Mr. Angevin L. Cater’s favorite haunt for the future, but he was surprised to find a change gradually stealing over him after he had left the man. There are some persons, distinctly agreeable at first, whose absence materializes an unexpected aversion to their further acquaintance; others, whose company one has found tedious, leave a wholesome flavor, after all, behind them. Mr. Cater appeared to be of the latter class. Justin found himself smiling with real kindness once or twice as he thought of his opposite neighbor.
But there was little time for turning aside during the afternoon—the evening as well as the morning were component parts of that golden day. The orders that came in gave a wonderful effect of luck, although they were largely the legitimate outcome of well-planned efforts. Justin thought the work of the last six months was bringing its fulfillment now, but this clear stream of accomplishment showed him the way to a mighty ocean. Power, power, power! The sense of it was in his finger-ends as he focused his mind on world-embracing schemes; with that impelling current of strength, he could have turned even failure to success, and he knew it.
The hours were all too short for transacting the business that had to be done, and for all the consultations as to ways and means. It would take some time to put these preparations on a larger scale.
Justin was ready to leave at six o’clock, with a bundle of price-lists under his arm to look over when he got home. The last mail was handed to him just as he was locking his desk.