"Oh, that!" says she. "Interest. Deed for a few lots in the new North Addition to Saskatoon."
"Tut, tut!" says I. "I can't take 'em. That wa'n't any loan I staked you to; just bread on the waters."
"Well, you can't kick if it comes back a ham sandwich," says she. "Besides, the lots stand in your name now. They were a mile out of town when I bought 'em; but Brother Phil says the city's bulged that way since. They've got the boom, you know. That's where we've been sending all our spare salary. Phil's down here to see us open."
"Eh?" says I. "Not the surveyor!"
"He still does some of that," says she.
"Do you suppose," says I, "I could get him to do a little stunt for me while he's here?"
"Do I?" says she. "Why, he knows all about it. Brother Phil will go the limit for you."
Uh-huh. Philip was up to all the fine points of the game, and the imitation he gave of layin' out a two-million-dollar factory site along Sucker Brook was perfect, even to loadin' his transit and target jugglers into a tourin' car right in front of the Rockhurst Trust Company.
Maybe that's how it come to be noised around that the Western Electric Company was goin' to locate a big plant on the tract. Anyway, before night I had three of the syndicate biddin' against each other confidential; but when Elisha P. runs it up to four figures, offerin' to meet me at the station with a certified check, I closes the deal with a bang.
"Swifty," says I, hangin' up the 'phone, "trot around to the Casino and get a lower box for to-night, while I find a florist's and order an eight-foot horseshoe of American beauties."