“You’re one of us, but nix on that rent idea. I’m firmly against that,” said Tootles. “Suppose we went up in smoke?”
“But how the deuce, then, are we to get away with it?” said King O’Leary, frowning. “If I invest it, some one else will get it. By golly, this time I’m going to have a run for my money! We must do the thing up in a big way—one grand splash. We might move over to the St. Regis and take the bridal suite.”
Flick was visibly impressed at this possibility of entering society, but Tootles turned the idea aside with the suggestion of a superior craftiness.
“And after it’s gone, what good will it do you? No, no; spend it where it will leave grateful memories,” he said wisely. “Keep it right around the block.”
“Them’s is wise words,” said Flick, yielding at once. “Tootles, you lack a heart, but you’re wise. It’s a wonder, though, you didn’t gum it all by stealing those oranges.”
“Pooh! I’m not superstitious,” said Tootles, while King O’Leary was still immersed in the distressing problem of how to get rid of the perplexing windfall.
“I am,” said Flick, “for let me tell you right now that this is the reward of virtue, my virtue. You needn’t throw up your hands. It’s what comes of having a kind heart. Yes, even toward elevators—always remember the milk of human kindness,” continued Flick, looking at Tootles reproachfully.
“Right you are,” said King O’Leary, with conviction, for his faith was of the simplest. And suddenly he exploded: “Flick, you’ve found it. By golly, son, I’ll tell you now how we’ll start to crack that check!”
“How?”
“We’ll have a Christmas of our own—a tree with presents for every one, and a Christmas dinner with a turkey and a pig—yes, sir, a roast pig!” His eyes began to snap as he enlarged upon his idea. “Boys, we’ll have them in, every lonely mother’s son of them—daughters, too! We’ll have an orchestra and decorate the studio—By jingo, we’ll give the old place the greatest shebang these regions have ever known!”