“My father left me something over thirty-one thousand dollars.”
“Thirty-one from one hundred and four leaves seventy-three.”
“And interest,” I corrected.
“I thought that was what you were driving at,” he surmised calmly. He pulled out a volume from its repository in his desk, and turned backwards and forwards in the book for a few moments, taking off figures on a sheet of paper. “Eight years at five per cent makes the whole over one hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars less thirty-one.”
“Thank you.”
“Where can you get the balance?”
“I must earn it.”
He looked at me with a slightly quizzical expression and asked, “How?”
“That I have yet to think out.”
“Any business?”