“Is the money burning a hole in Uncle’s pocket?”
“I fear it is. He is seventy years old; yet, instead of planning to retire, he seethes with a desire to double his present fortune. He has dreams of vast emprise. I wish he had gout instead!”
“Casson and Pritchard is a partnership, Dan. Why do you not incorporate? Then if the business fails, through any indiscretion of Uncle John, you will not be responsible for more than your fifty per cent of the company’s debts.”
“Forty per cent, Maisie. I was admitted to partnership on that basis, although my father was an equal partner. However, his death terminated that partnership and I suppose Mr. Casson felt that with my youth and inexperience forty per cent was generous.”
The girl was silent, gazing abstractedly out of the window. Dan realized that she was striving to scheme a way out for him, and he smiled in anticipation of what her plan would be. He was not mistaken.
“Dan,” she said presently, “I believe you are more or less of a thorn in Uncle John’s side. Why do you not sell out to him, retire and paint pictures? I feel certain he would be glad to buy you out.”
He sighed. “There are several minor reasons and one major reason why such a course would be repugnant to me.”
“Name them.”
“Mr. Casson, Mrs. Casson and all of our employees constitute the minor reasons. You constitute the major one.”
She flushed pleasurably and the lambent light of a great affection leaped into her fine eyes. He continued: