Rodney. I’m going to fight the soap trust.
Peale. Well, you’re no piker. You’ve picked out a nice refined job. How long have you been at it?
Rodney. Twenty minutes.
Peale. How’s it going?
Rodney. Fine, since I got an idea from you.
Peale. They grow all over me—help yourself.
Rodney. I’m going to get a factory, advertise like the very dickens: Soap King’s son fights father—and licks him, too, by George!
Peale. Wait a minute, wait a minute, do you know why your father is the soap king?
Rodney. I suppose because he controls all the soap business in the country except Ivory.
Peale. Exactly, and the way he keeps control of it is by buying out all his live competitors. Now, here’s a blue-ribbon champion of the world scheme. Why don’t we make good and sell out to father?