"You've got a dent in your derby; it may have been that," said Mr. Trinkle.
Mr. Melnor hastily removed his hat and punched out the dent.
"I'm not so sure it was that," he said, flushing up.
Mr. Trinkle gazed gloomily out of the window.
For an hour they talked business; then Mr. Melnor was ready to go.
"How are my nephews getting on?" he asked.
"Something rotten," replied Mr. Trinkle truthfully.
"What's the matter with 'em?"
"Everything—except a talent for business."
"You mean to say they exhibit no aptitude?"