"He's thinking of the money," thought Skippy, darkly.
"You don't seem enthusiastic."
"No-o—."
"I say, Skippy, you aren't natural," said Snorky in alarm. "You don't look at me as you used to. What is it? Out with it now."
"Well," said Skippy slowly, "I said fifty-fifty and I stick to it; fifty-fifty, because I am a man of my word, but I do think there ought to be some limit. . ."
Ten minutes later, when Snorky's infectious laugh had restored his sense of humor, Bedelle, Incorporated took up the transaction of business again,—the discussion of the profits having by mutual consent been adjourned to a later session.
"Skippy, old top, I'm thinking we've got to get expert advice," said Snorky after a morning of fruitless discussion.
"You mean—"
"I mean Doc Macnooder or the Tennessee Shad."
"I'm afraid so, too. This is bigger than us."