“He was in Honolulu on that pineapple deal when you stumbled across this good thing, was he not, Uncle John?”
“Yes, but then he knew about it before he left for Honolulu.”
“Well, I hope you’ll make a killing, Uncle John.”
He beamed his thanks upon her. “When I do—and I cannot help doing it—I’m going to be mighty nice to my niece,” he assured her. “However,” he continued reminiscently, “my day for taking a sporting chance is over. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Have you?” his wife ventured hopefully.
“Just to prove to you that I have,” he challenged, “if I get an offer of twenty-four cents per pound, f.o.b. Havana, today, I’ll sell every pound of rice I have in transit or hold under purchase contract.”
“What was the market yesterday, John?”
“Twenty-three cents.”
“Sell at that today,” Maisie urged him.
He smiled and shook his head. These women! How little they knew of the great game of business! How little did they realize that, to succeed, a man must be possessed of an amazing courage, a stupendous belief in his own powers, in his knowledge of the game he is playing. Maisie read him accurately. He was as easy to read as an electric sign.