“Mine?”
“Of course.”
“My picture on de money?”
“Why not? You are the one who makes it, and enables everyone else to make it.”
It was one of those brand new ideas that come only to geniuses and children. I could see that T-S had never thought of it before; also, that he found it interesting to think of. Carpenter went on: “If your picture was on it, then every one would know what it meant. People would say: 'Render unto T-S the things that are T-S's.' When you were paying off your mobs, you would pay them with your own money, and whenever they spent it, the people would bow to Caesar—I mean to T-S.”
He said it without the trace of a smile; and T-S had no idea there was a smile anywhere in the neighborhood. In a business-like tone he said: “I'll tink about it.” Then he went on: “You give it to de strikers—”
But Carpenter interrupted: “It was you who were going to give it. I cannot give nor take money.”
“You mean you von't take it to dem?”
“I couldn't possibly do it, Mr. T-S.”
“But, man—”