"Boss!" he protested.
"That's just a sketchy outline," said Jimmy, pausing for breath. "I can't do you justice impromptu like this—you're too vast and overwhelming."
"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 fer swipin' chicken-feed like dem. But dese is different. Dese di'monds is boids. It's one hundred t'ousand plunks fer dese."
"Spike," said Jimmy with painful calm.
"Huh?"