“You said something that time, father-in-law,” Matt replied laughingly.
Then he roughed the old man affectionately and went forth into California Street, where he wore out much shoe leather before he located what he considered a bargain and reported back to the president emeritus.
“You're right, Cappy!” he declared. “You aren't the only boob in the shipping business. I've located another.”
“That's what you get by taking father's advice,” Gappy retorted proudly. “Have you bought a steamer?”
“No; but I'm going to buy one this afternoon. She's going to cost us half a million dollars, cash on the nail, and I have an option on her at that figure until noon today. Skinner has a lot of lumber money he isn't using, and I'm going to borrow a quarter of a million from his company on the Blue Star note at six per cent. Don't want to run our own treasury too low.”
“Dog-gone that Skinner! That's some more of his efficiency. I own both companies, and it's just like taking money out of one pocket and putting it into the other; but Skinner's a bug on system. Just think of making me pay myself six per cent interest! However, I suppose we must have some kind of order. What's the name of the steamer?”
“The Penelope.”
Cappy Ricks slid out to the edge of his chair, placed one hand on each knee, and appraisingly eyed his son-in-law over the rims of his glasses.
“Say that again, Matt—and say it slow,” he ordered.
“I said Penelope—P-e-n-e-l-o-p-e. Maybe you call her the Pen-elope!”