Perkins waved his hand.
"My boy," he exclaimed, "there are millions! You've thousands of 'em right here in your office! You're falling over them, sitting on them, walking on them! Schemes? Everything is a scheme. Everything has money in it!"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Yes," I said, "for you. But you are a genius."
"Genius, yes," Perkins said smiling cheerfully, "else why Perkins the Great? Why Perkins the originator? Why the Great and Only Perkins of Portland?"
"All right," I said, "what I want is for your genius to get busy. I'll give you a week to work up a good scheme."
Perkins pushed back his hat and brought his feet to the floor with a smack.
"Why the delay?" he queried, "time is money. Hand me something from your desk."
I looked in my pigeonholes and pulled from one a small ball of string. Perkins took it in his hand and looked at it with great admiration.
"What is it?" he asked seriously.