“But, boss, what’s eatin’ you? Ain’t youse tickled?”
“Tickled!” Jimmy sawed the air. “Tickled! You lunatic! Can’t you see what you’ve done?”
“I’ve got dem,” said Spike, whose mind was not readily receptive of new ideas. It seemed to him that Jimmy missed the main point.
“Didn’t I tell you there was nothing doing when you wanted to take those things the other day?”
Spike’s face cleared. As he had suspected, Jimmy had missed the point.
“Why, say, boss, yes—sure. But dose was little dinky t’ings. Of course, youse wouldn’t stand for swipin’ chicken-feed like dem. But dese is different. Dese di’monds is boids. It’s one hundred thousand plunks fer dese.”
“Spike!” said Jimmy, with painful calm.
“Huh?”
“Will you listen for a moment?”
“Sure.”